Sweet Dreams or a Beautiful Nightmare
by NagainaFier
Summary: When Victor gets paid to save the life of a woman, he figured she'd get the hell out of his hair after word... Right Victor, just keep thinking that thought to yourself. CreedXOC
1. Sweet Dreams

**NagainaFier owns nothing, Marvel owns everything. Except this story as a whole. She makes no profit.**

**-A/N as of 6.2.13-**

**Dear God. **

**Okay, please keep in mind I started this when I was 14 (Why was I allowed anywhere ****_near_****this site, let alone the internet at 14 is beyond me).**** I swear to you my writing and characterization has improved. I'm trying to finish the last chapter really quick so I can move on with my life and get started on the rewrite... but... well, you'll see.**

**Warning: Slight Mary Sue and content of questionable plausibility lies ahead!**

**Why did I ever think this was quality literature...**

+Victor POV+

As the mutant prepared for his next job, the phone rang-

"Hello?"

"Victor, it's show time. Only way we're getting paid for this is if you kill the guy that's suppose to hit, uhh... Larella, before he hits her. Got to go soon if you're gonna make the dead line."

An audible growl was heard on the other end of the line; "I know the fucking requirements of the damn job, ass wipe. And I'm heading out the door right now."

"Oh, well, good. See you tomorrow then, hopefully."

Click.

He growled in annoyance. That little prick was so annoying... Arrogant bastard- if it wasn't for the fact that he was going to have something to dig his teeth into tonight, he would have had to debate wither or not he should kill that little prick. Oh well, at least this way, through assassinations, he was able to feed his blood lust without getting thrown in jail for it- not that the prison would have kept him in for long. It was jut too much hassle for him to want to deal with, and he didn't think the feds would be as willing let him off about the kills he made in between missions. This was one of those said missions, as it was not planned by the feds.

This particular case was odd though- normally he was going after people who stepped on the wrong toes, not the people who took out the toe-stepper-onners. But, he was getting paid to do his favorite pass time, so hell, who was he to question it? Should be easy enough- Follow the girl, then get the hit man when he shows up. Of course, from the sounds of it, she had no idea she was being hit on, nor that she was being saved from said hit. Another odd point- the male who'd booked Jerald to book a hit man? Said he didn't give a crap what happened to the girl, so long as her hit was dead before she was. Whatever the hell that meant.

He released another growl, still pissed about Jerald's arrogant attitude, and put on his coat. That coat had been to almost every hit he had ever made. It held the faint odor of blood, death, and decay, and, though invisible to humans and mutant's who lacked a great sense of smell, it made a barrier of sorts for mutants who _did _possess a heightened sense of smell; a warning for them to keep their distance.

Well, time to lock and load. He got excited at the mere thought of being able to run his claws through skin, muscles... God.

Victor stood on top of a apartment building, in the ghetto street rat part of town, with a good vantage point of where the attack was suppose to be. What the hell... Sure, these areas where good, since no one really noticed if someone went missing, and it was always fun chasing them around, confusing and disorienting them in the territory they all called home, but where was the challenge in this? He was waiting for the lovely little pair that was to be his entertainment for the night- the girl and her hit man. And there she was...

Small little thing- no bigger then 5'3. Pale skin that looked rather orange under the street light that she was standing under. Damn, don't girls learn any damn thing now a days? You never stand under the street light in the dead of night in the ghetto part of town-especially in a dark alley way that surrounded on both sides by apartment buildings, where you are about 100 paces from running into a dead end-it's just not done unless you have a death wish.

Oh wait, obviously, she does.

He'd made a brief study of her; learn her habits, etc., as he did with all those involved in his jobs. She rented an apartment, which wasn't too unusual considering she lived alone in a city; woke up at 5 everyday (or at least, for the past two weeks anyway), skipped breakfast, left the apartment to go to some horse ranch, ride a couple of the beasts, have lunch, train a couple, get home, eat again, watch T.V./listen to music/screw around on her laptop/ do all of the above at the same time, then go to work at the bar she was headed to. Occasionally there were a couple of people who would come over, but normally only long enough to gather her and leave the place for the night. She frequented this place often, either working there or partying with her friends. Most where other mutants, though there where a few normal humans that mingled with the little crew. When she was at the bar, he didn't have to be quite so secretive about it- nobody would notice another mutant staring at the ass of a girl in a place like that. But it did complicate matters that he needed to be downwind of her at all times otherwise- little bitch was a feral with a good nose. Well, now was show time, so he didn't have to worry about that anymore. However, today he'd been rather careless- She'd partied a little too hard last night, and Victor had almost started laughing when he heard her bitching about how her head felt like it was splitting at the seams. Her hangover had made her take some medication to dull her heightened senses, just enough to not render her helpless, but enough to take the edge off of it.

And she was in no condition to fend off an attacker, he concluded with a wicked grin.

Under the light, he could make out the dark raven black hair that mostly straight, but had a slight wave to it. The wide eyes, a solid blue, visible from his vantage point, thanks to his enhanced sight. Yeah, little pretty things like her didn't survive very long around places like here. He could smell the hit man, but the hit couldn't smell Victor, thanks to his being downwind of them- ah, the hunter turned the hunted, wasn't it just magnificent? The hit had started the hunt, and apparently seemed to have something in common with Victor- he liked to play with his toys. All of a sudden, the wind changed direction, sweeping Victor's scent right to the hit, and slapping him in the face with it.

Most would have been discouraged, pissed even, to have their place given up by something as simple as the wind. Not Victor- it enticed the prey to be faster, to do what ever they came to do, and leave as fast as they possibly could-It made it all the more fun.

Larella was diffidently nervous. Normally, she wouldn't have blinked about walking around in an alley way by herself- but Maryse had decided to take Larella out last night and she'd woken up with a killerhangover. She'd had to take some medication Maryse had given her last night to 'help if your head hurt tomorrow'. It had killed her heightened senses, save her sense of smell. It hadn't got much better as the day progressed (in fact, it had gotten worse, if anything), and the broad wanted to go out again tonight. Jesus Christ, they might both be feral, but nobody had Maryse's alcohol tolerance. Lucky bitch had been so damn perky this morning, like they hadn't been out until 5 A.M. So, Larella agreed to go to the bar again, but she wasn't going to drink anything. And pitty the poor bastard who tried to hit on her.

Naturally, being horrifically hung over + being in a dark alley way with one street light, and one alone, both sides surrounded by abandoned buildings. Yeah... Not exactly the best of combinations. She was not quiet 100% sure that she would be able to handle an attacker- Hell, if any human male had a bone to pick with her, now would diffidently be the time to handle it, cause he had a good chance at winning in a fight. Lord have mercy on her soul if a mutant did though- she would be royally fucked. There was a fence that separated her and the safety of the public eye- too tall for a human to climb, but Larella could scale it if she got a running start. It only then occurred to her that she shouldn't have probably stood under the street light... Something was odd...

Well shit.

Her suspicions had been correct- someone was following her. After the wind changed, she'd finally been able to find out without giving herself away. In fact, there where two someones.

Shit. Again.

She was screwed. Just brilliant. She may have been able to do both (diffidently one, at least), if she hadn't been hung over. But she was. And she couldn't think straight with the buzz humming through her ears.

If she made it out of this, she was going to kill Maryse.

Her instincts where warring with each other- the aggressive side, telling her to go for the weaker one and pray that the stronger one wasn't interested in her, and if he was, finish the weaker one and attack the fuck out of the stronger one. The logical one telling her to take a leaf out of the books of the horses she rode when it came to the survival mechanism, and run for her life. The aggressive side vehemently refused to even consider that, taking Larella's feral pride into account. She stood there for a few seconds, the two halves fighting for control, when in her hazed state, more or less completely snapped, the logical half winning out. She bolted for the dead end, preparing to use her cat-like reflexes to climb the damn thing and hit civilization, when she fell straight to the floor.

So much for her cat-like reflexes. Unless you count a dead one.

"FUCK!" She spat out, quickly getting back to her feet. The soft white skin on her forarms where skinned where she'd tried to lessen the impact and protect her face from a broken nose or something of the like. Her palms where cut up as well, and when she felt some resistance on her leg, she looked down.

Oh come on, give a girl a break.

Really... Really, really now? Her damn jeans where caught on a piece of metal that jutted out. Fag-hats. Was this not like a bad slasher movie waiting to happen? Not having the patience to untangle it, she bent slightly, aiming to just rip the damn thing free, but she was having difficulty getting the freaking thing to rip. Seriously? Come on... damn it, just rip.

Shit. Here she was, dressed like the fucking turkey on Thanksgiving, with two mutants behind her more then likely having conspired together to be her undoing.

Oh God. Those where diffidently foot steps... oh crap, oh crap, crap, crap, crap! Her tugging on the denim material increased, but it wouldn't give, much to her horror- the smart thing to do would be to stop yanking and undo it the way it got caught, but this was not just a bent upwards/downward/side ward angle thing- nope, it make a freaking loop-de-loop. She was screwed. God have mercy on her soul with these guys if she couldn't outsmart a pair of inanimate objects!

Her hearing catching the sound of breathing behind her, she froze in place, her heart frozen, her blood cold, not breathing. Nothing. She slowly looked up, and, yup, How do you flippen do? Mr. Hello,-my-name-is-Michal-myers-how-may-I-kill-you? 

Shit.

At least his buddy was still jacking around someplace else. Small mercies. He pulled out a knife –she'd been expecting a gun or something. C-r-a-p-o-l-a.

All of a sudden, the tables turned. Something enormousjumped down from tops of the building. At first she had thought it was an animal, 'cause it landed snarling and snapping.

It then occurred to her that it was the other male- the feral whom she'd been hoping she'd not have to tango with tonight. Damn, she was really glad she wasn't Michael Myers, though she had no clue why the feral male was protecting her, but why look the gift horse in the mouth? She certainly wasn't complaining.

When her mind finally remembered that she needed to breathe, her breath came on a shocked gasp. Better Mr. Michael Myers then her, that was for damn sure.

The assailant looked deterred, slightly, though not quiet as shocked that he was going to have to fight the feral as Larella had been. They just stood there, for what could have been a few seconds, moments, or hours, honestly she had no idea; her mind too stunned to properly process it all.

She was forgetting to breathe, her mind was still shocked, and, after a few seconds more of watching this, she passed out.

What seemed like hours later, she came too, and was completely disoriented- where was she? She had passed out in an alley way, not a bed. And what the hell was the pressure on her whole left side, and on her waist? Horrifically confused her sleep-induced haze, it never fully registered that she should be concerned that she was in someone else's bed. Her head lifted up, though it was barely all she could manage... the area seemed safe enough at least... Now to find out what was causing the pressure? She somewhat awkwardly turned her head, her eyebrows rather lazily knit together in confusion.

The male feral? What in the…?

However she was suppose to react- terrified, pissed, screamed, or whatever, it was completely contrary to how she was behaving. Oddly enough, she felt safe there, with him. Probably because her sleep-induced mind was only able to realize that he had saved her, rather then the damage he himself could dish out if he wanted, and the fact that he was, well, a feral. A temporary safety net while she recovered from her damn hangover, which, sadly, still had yet to go away.

She went to lay back down, and had accidentally bumped against the male on her way back down to her pillow. A low, possessive growl emitted from his throat, making her hunker down instinctively, only for him to reassure his grip on her waist, pulling her tighter against his body, a low, steady growl at his throat.

Exhausted from the mental stress, that god awful hangover, and near death situation scare, she sank back into a blissful sleep, next to the feral whose name she didn't even know...

Honestly, he had no idea why the little female was in his bed- and unharmed by him, none the less. Most of the time that Victor Creed brought a female home, there was only one meaning to it- he was going to rape her on his turf. Though he had no idea what he was going to do with her, one there was one thing that bothered him in the back of his mind- he wasn't currently forming ideas about all the different ways he could bend her over, or how he could torture her, or something along those lines. Jesus Christ he better fucking not be going soft. Even was he was paid to not skin bitches, he still thought about it. Give him something to distract himself from the pain of their damn annoying questions.

Then again, the little female wasn't a frail whore he'd picked up at some bar. She was like him, and female. That was rare enough as it is. (Something with the estrogen hormone discouraged a feral mutation in females)And she was young too- if she looked only about 19-20, then she was one of the newer generations of Feral. She smelled like a cat, which was probably her saving grace. At least she didn't reek of dog, or some other breed.

Her little buddy had been fun though. He'd spent hours on the hit's ass, occasionally letting the hit think that he may get out of this one, while the kitten recovered from whatever the hell it was that had made her pass out in the first place. It hadn't been from fear alone, though it had diffidently been present, but, then again, he suppose if he had been her, and caught on that metal dressed like the Christmas goose, then sure, whatever.

Victor watched as the girl made a break for it, but apparently her vision wasn't too good in her frightful flight- she was running for a dead end, and had tripped after her jeans got hung up on a piece of metal. While she panicked, the hit decided to make his move, threatened by Creed's presence, and more then worried that he was going to have his prey stolen from him. Bastard was right- Creed was taking her from him, but not before he had some fun. Let the hit think he'd get his fun with the girl, only to drop in between the pair before he even got his weapon out.

The little fucker never stood a chance.

He used his mass to intimidate the hit away from the little female, and then got out his claws.

"Looks like you pissed somebody off by taking the hit on her, punk. Tell me something- Whose the employer? Kinda a requirement formyhit. And don't even try to pull the macho bravado on me, punk ass- I'm not one to be fooled with, and I can assure you my balls are bigger then yours, if you even have any."

How pathetic- this hit actually thinks he might get away.

"Hey man, I don't know the name of my employer- Hell, I thought she was just some skank who slept with the wrong person."Creed growled feraly, starting low in his chest and working it's way up to his throat. He took an aggressive step towards the male- now he was going to have his fun. He didn't care about identifying the male's species, only recognizing that he was a mutant as well.

"There's just aslightproblem with that answer- I don't like it. Who the hell hired you, you little shit?" He roared, his temper flaring. He wasn't in the mood for playing games, unless he was the one leading it. He just wanted his answers so he could fuck this dumb ass up faster. As a warning, Victor lashed out with his claws, digging for any purchase he could get in the males arm. A pained cry escaped the hit's throat, blood starting to freely flow from the wound. The smell hit Victors nose, his blood lust flared 10 fold.

"Idon'tknow man, just let me go."

Another snarl, another slash, increasing the length and depth of the previous wound.

"You want to rephrase that? I'm getting paid get this name, and have also been informed that if you don't give it freely, I'm supposed to get creative- I can getrealcreative, if you get my drift."

A hand extended, Victor drew a line into the male's collar bone, tearing the shirt, thin skin, muscle, and even scratched out the bone.

They had spent a good 2 hours like that until what was left of the hit finally broke. He was skinned everywhere, the muscles, and even bone showing in numerous places, with most of the bones being broken, snapped, and fractured. Victor turned the guy into a scratching post. The blood had set a haze in his mind so thick, that Victor almost missed it. Very quietly, he had whispered it- his voice was hoarse from crying out in pain, Victor having moved into one of the abandoned buildings near by so he could getreallycreative, without the risk of someone over-hearing and coming to investigate- he liked to play in peace.

"His name... is... it's... Steven Shepard..."

Aha. Little ass wipe thought he would live through this if he finally gave- nope. Not this time. A wicked grin crossed his face.

"Thanks punk. Say your prayers." He said maliciously. He made a quick end, having lost real interest when his prey had stopped screaming. Using his nails to cut the prey's jugular vein, then moved out of the way while the hit pissed and shat in his death throes, weak as they were.

Yeah, blood, he didn't mind. Getting pissed on, he did.

He left his prey there, lying in a pool of his own puke, blood, urine and shit, then left the building- someone would find him when he started to stink. Or maybe not, whatever- Victor didn't care. Another shift of the wind brought the little female's scent back to him, and he moved towards her; she seemed to be unconscious, but was still alive. Good. He was getting the full amount then.

"I don't care what happens to her, so long as that hit is stopped, and I get the name of whoever ordered the hit."

The words floated back into his mind. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with the little female- He couldn't leave her here, there was too much of a risk that someone would find her and finished what Hit started. Then Victor wouldn't get paid, and he'd have to kill somebody else. With a sigh, he picked up the female, growled when he met resistance from the piece of metal, and then tore her jeans free of the infernal thing, and made his way back home.

A grin formed on his face at the memory. He was still in his bed, having followed Kitten into sleep shortly after he had gotten home. She really was tiny- though she wasn't stick thin like the frails in this day and age thought looked good. Too angular for him, he preferred females with some curves. He sighed, getting up to call and tell that ass hole Jerald he'd done his job and wanted his damn money.

The phone rang. Knowing it was more then likely Jerald, (God, Victor could not wait to slic that little fuck up)

"You got the hit then, and the name?"

"Of course I did, ass hole, name's Steven Shepard. And the girl's safe too."

"Steven Shepard? Doesn't sound like much. What the hell. Well, anyway, the employer wanted you to have her call him soon."

"I thought he didn't care what happened so long as I kept the hit from happening."

"Don't ask me- here's the number."

He memorized the number, and then hung up on Jerald, the little prick having served his purpose. Maybe after Victor got paid he would slice Jerald up something nice- wasn't like the little fuck was his agent or anything. With a growl, he was about to dial the number when it rang in his hand. He glanced at it; the name dancing across the screen, then flipped it open.

"Just about to call you." was his opening line.

"I'm sure you where. Now, what happened?"

"She caught on a piece of metal after trying to make a break for it, he made his move, she passed out, I had my fun with him- his employer's name is Steven Shepard."

A chuckle on the end of the line."Sounds like Larella. Alright, so, until I got this Steven character, I'd appreciate if you kept an eye on her. You'll get paid for it, of course, and she's one hell of a cook too, so there's a bonus for you right there."

Victor debated this for a moment- He didn't like the idea of being a baby sitter, though the cook thing had him actually considering it- he needed to find one, and he'd sure as hell rather get paid to keep her in his sights rather then pay someone to do it. And he could always entice the little bitch to spread her legs for him. Unfortunately, he didn't think his employer would take that very well, then he wouldn't get paid.

"Thought you said you didn't give a fuck either which way."

"I've changed my mind- I always look after my girls, Victor."

"She's asleep- I'll get her up."

"I know."

That guy was pretty fucking sure of himself, like he knew everything. It was irritating. Victor made his way from the kitchen, up the stairs, and to the end of the hallway where his bed room was.

Though he had houses scattered across the country, and a few in other countries, this one was his 'base', where he stayed when he wasn't on a job. The entire thing was huge, and designed by him to fit his bulk. It was also placed in a forest right outside the city, for his privacy, and to add for more play time when he wanted to chase his prey around.

The Master part of the house was his pride and joy- the bed was the center piece, in the middle of the room, though against the back wall, with shimmering, dark red sheets that looked like blood, with the furs from wolves and Mule deer. Across from the bed was an ornate marble fireplace, set with a small little flame that barely went above the wood, dancing blue.

The little female was still asleep, but had migrated to where Victor had been sleeping, more then likely to escape the November chill, and where he'd been sleeping was more then likely the warmest place in the bed. He crossed the distance, then stood above the girl. Grabbing her shoulder and lightly shaking it, he got no response other then her other hand making a rather weak attempt at swatting him away, and a grumbled noise, burring her face in the pillow, gripping the satin sheets with one hand.

"Rip the sheets off- it's the only way to get her up fast without risking getting those nails in your face."

Okay, that was a little weird how he had known that, but Victor gave it a shot. Grabbing the sheets, they gave from her grip easily. Holding them away from her with one hand, he watched as she jerked up with a shocked cry like someone had lit a fire under her ass. She skirted away from him at first glance, and then stared at him, confused and shivering. He held out the phone, not feeling like handing it to her, and he didn't exactly trust her hand-eye coordination at the moment. She hesitantly reached for it, wary of him, which was good- the bitch had a healthy dose of fear of him in her. That would help him settle any disputes that popped up later. She snatched it away from him, and moved away when he let out a small growl of irritation.

"Hello?"

Victor left the room then, not caring enough about their conversation to eavesdrop. He grinned triumphantly when she grabbed at the blankets.

That's right, bitch, you'd better remember that- I take what I want, and only give it back when I'm good and fucking ready- And not a Goddamned moment sooner.


	2. What the hell is this?

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines (unless other wise stated that a plotline was inspired by something else) She makes no profit other then making about 10 people happy on a semi-annual basis.**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission**_**is**_**illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**1st:Retyped as of 4-30-11**

**2nd: No longer applies**

**3rd: I adore the emails that say you guys added my story to your favorites/updates list. Reviews are a nice bonus, though the favorites/updates list strokes my ego.**

**Pardon any OC-ness, or grammatical errors- if I didn't catch it, it's because my Microsoft didn't. Happy reading my wee little fishies.**

"Hello?" She asked, glaring daggers into the male's back as he left the room.

_"Larella. Nice to hear from you again."_

She damn well near fainted. That was… impossible… _how_ could he have _possibly_ found her? He was… she had been so sure… Her mind couldn't take this much pressure. The buzz from the night before last was still there, thought just barely- it'd be gone by nightfall. Blinking a few times, it took her a second to find her voice. Her word was barely a whisper.

"_Daemon?_"A chuckle on the other line

_"Surprised?"_She could only nod her head, still dumbfounded.

"But you're dead… You died! … I saw it!"

Another chuckle- that little mother fucker. How the hell did he escape? The whole shit had gotten blown to pieces.

_"No, Larella- You saw the building explode."_

"But _..out?_The whole thing was incinerated. Nothing left. Even the _frame_ got burned to hell and back again, Daemon, how did you survive?"

_"Simple answer, Larella- I never went into the building"_

_"What?"_

_"I. Never. Went. Into. The building. They thought I had, they triggered the explosives. They screwed up because they thought they had me. I had to lay low- so don't give me that hysterical routine of 'Why didn't you call and tell me.' And all that jazz._No one, not even you, Ella, could know._"_

She was on her guard when he said her 'pet' name. Pronouncing 'Ella' the Spanish way- the double 'l's making a 'y'. Eya.

"… What did you do, Daemon?"

_"Nothing too bad- I think someone caught onto my little Houdini trick, and tried to get at me by having you taken out."_

"So you hired fucking _Victor. Creed?_" Now that she _wasn't_ completely wasted, she was able to recognize the feral. He was a legend of sorts to the feral part of the community. The guy was bad-ass. You did _not_ want to meet him on the side of the street, since it normally meant you were next. Jesus Christ she'd never be able to live this down.

_"But of course- You know I only get you the best that money can buy."_

"God. Stop that- it sounds like you one of those arrogant assholes who think they can keep their wife happy by buying every little shiny object they can get a hold of."

"_I try._"

"Shut the hell up Daemon."

"_Ha-ha. Anyway, while I'm still gathering information, I want you to stay with-"_

"Hell. No. Have you finally jumped off the goddamned deep end? This is fucking _Victor Creed_ we are talking about- he's just as effing likely to rape me as he is to save my ass a second time."

_"Not when I'm paying him to keep an eye on you. This means you're staying with him. It's not like I'm making you marry him or anything- calm down. You're safe as long I'm signing at least one of his paychecks._"

"Fuck." She could almost hear the eye roll on the other end of the line.

"_I've taken care of everything- he's taking you to your apartment to get your things._"

"I've got a job to go to." She said- a last ditch effort.

_"Which he will escort you to and from."_

"There really is now fucking way out this, is there?"

_"I'm proud to say, nope. Just don't burn anything._"

"I resent that- I'mma fantastic cook."

"_Good. Just feed your cat and you'll be fine._"

She snickered at that. "Don't let him hear you say that"

_"That's not what I meant, and you say that like I'm not aware. Alright, I have better things to do other then make sure you don't get yourself killed. Bye"_

Click.

She rolled her eyes at that, and then flipped the phone shut. Her hands dropped, as she just sat there for a second, trying to figure this all out in her head. Glancing at the clock, it read 12:30.

_"Holy shit!_I am _so_fucking late today…Shit again! My cat!"

"Don't matter- the only place you're going today is your apartment to get your shit, then going over to your little friend's place."

She'd nearly died of cardiac arrest right there. "Could you make a _noise_ or something- Christ on a cracker!" _How_ was it that a behemoth like him could sneak around that quietly? To a feral's ears as well. That just wasn't fair.

Victor was standing in the doorway, starting at her, like he owned the whole damn place (Well, technically he did, but still), a feral grin on his face. She resisted the urge to growl. It'd been a while since she'd had someone tell her what to do, and she had a feeling she wasn't going to adjust well to it now. He gave her a quizzical look at her odd usage of Christ's name. She sighed, somehow managing to make her way out of the bed without making an ass of herself.

"In that case, let's go."

With a roll of the eyes, he turned around, stalking out of the room. Larella followed him through the large building, resisting the urge to make a comment on the kitchen (which she fell in love with, though slightly confused why even Victor would need a kitchen of that size), to the garage, where 3 different classes of cars where sitting- she didn't know names, but there was a silver Dodge, which she recognized. And it appeared they where taking the Dodge as well.

Silently getting into the truck, she zoned out, staring out the window. However, when they pulled up to the apartment complex she lived in, something clicked in her head.

"How did you know where I live?"

"Always follow up on a client. How the hell do you think I knew when you where getting attacked? Followed you from your place."

"Wow, that first and last part doesn't sound stalker-ish in the slightest." She replied sarcastically.

A growl of annoyance was her only response, and she decided not to push her luck.

Walking to the door, she checked her back pockets for her key… which was not there. Frowning, she looked at Victor, who had a 'you got to be freaking kidding me' look on his face. Scowling, Larella looked up, the tendons in her neck showing against the thin protective layer of the skin on her throat (making Victor resist the urge to rip out her jugular and bathe in her blood). Then, a wicked smile appeared on her face. Still looking up, she jumped, her hand hitting above the framing of the door, and when she landed, there was a key in her hand. A triumphant look on her face, she unlocked the door.

It wasn't that bad of an apartment- it was decent sized and clean. Though simple, still. Bedroom, bathroom, and some closet space she'd turned into a laundry room, a kitchen, small dining area, living room. There was a yowling, and both Larella and Victor looked down to see what looked like a miniature, silver cheetah walking towards Larella as fast as he could without running.

Damnit, he'd forgotten about her cat.

The cat yowled again, then, reaching his mistress, started rubbing up against her legs, covering her in his scent from mid-calf down. If Victor wasn't mistaken, he would have sworn that cat was challenging him by claiming the small black haired girl as his. After all, that's what all that rubbing business is about- the cat claiming ownership of its master by covering them in its scent.

Larella dropped, stroking the cat; "Poor baby boy, you haven't eaten yet, have you? We'll fix that right now, won't we?" She spoke in a baby voice. The cat mewled, arching his back, and then followed Larella with his tail raised as she went to the pantry to get the cat his food.

Victor could swear the damn thing was gloating that it got Larella's attention whenever it wanted.

She poured the food in the bowl, leaving the bowl on the counter- the silver cheetah cat hoped on the counter and started eating. Victor rolled his eyes, stepping over the threshold and into the living room. He would never be able to live in a place this small, but he supposed it could work for her.

"What do I need to pack?" Larella asked, walking to where the bedroom was.

"Whatever you need." Did he _look_ like he had tits and a vagina? How the hell was he supposed to know what she was supposed to get?

His attention was caught by a cabinet with a lot of shelves. There was a shit load of DVD's, stacked horizontally and vertically, in no apparent order from what he could see at first glance. Browsing through the tittles, he saw that she had at leas grouped the series together. Some anime shit he couldn't pronounce; Halloween, Charmed, Monty Python… Final Fantasy? What in the hell was that? Some kind of kinky porno horror flick? He may have been able to tell what it was about if it had been in its original casing, but it was one of those empty DVD holders you use for DVD's you've burned, and she probably had gotten them illegally. The tittles, Final Fantasy 1-7, where scrawled on the sides in Roman numerals. The kinky porn thing would keep friends and family from asking questions, so he'd just go with that.

He heard her mutter something along the lines of 'Gee that narrows it down so much!' Along with a few choice words directed at him. If she didn't quit cussing at him like that, he'd have to wash her damn mouth. And with something far different then soap.

"If you pull out _any_ of those DVD's, you better put them back _exactly_ where you found them- they're alphabetized, and I don't want to have to it again. It was a pain in the ass enough the first time!" came a voice laced in a southern accent from the bedroom. He was about to say something along the lines of 'Bull shit', when he saw that in a weird ass way, they where alphabetized. By title, the ones vertical stacks where in order from top to bottom, and the horizontal ones next to it took up where the last one ended.

He heard the general shuffling of her pulling things out of draws and putting them into a bag. The cat finished his food and dashed after his mistress without giving Victor a second glance.

He glanced through the DVD's while she packed, pulling a few of the out to look on the back cover, while she threw her crap in a bag. After she was apparently done with packing her clothes, she went to the bathroom with another empty bag, and starting pulling things from the medicine cabinet, the shower, and the cabinet. When she finished with that, she went back into the bedroom, grabbed the two bags she'd left in there (oddly enough not two suitcases… just 2 duffle bags.) Snatching a few DVD's off the shelf, putting them in one of the bags, then packed up her laptop.

"Ready to go?" he asked in a dull voice.

"Just got to get Nyroc's stuff and I will. Come on kitty, let's get you packed up."

Nyroc's stuff consisted of his crate, litter box, food and water bowls, the actual food, and a few toys. Not having the patience to watch her come back her for a second trip, Victor grabbed the three bags and computer case, flanking her down to the car. For whatever reason, the cat was not in his crate- he was following Larella at her heels, without getting distracted by anything.

Putting the cat stuff in the back of the truck, he put the bags in the backseat, and then the two got in the truck, and headed back to Victor's. That damn cat was riding in the front seat.

The drive back was just as quiet, except for the non-stop purring of the silver cheetah cat, who'd made himself at home in Larella's lap.

When Victor pulled into the garage, Larella grabbed her bag with the clothes, and her cat in the other arm. Victor followed, watching as she made her way around the corner, and walked into a bathroom, setting the cat outside the door. He pawed at it, but then lied down. Victor grinned when he heard the lock click- like a damn locked door was going to keep him out if he wanted in.

Victor himself preferred to not be quiet so noticeable when he wasn't out on call to kill someone, so went changing seemed to be a good idea at the moment. No point in the potential prey being aware of the hunter before the kill. Mad them suspicious.

He changed into something 'nice' by definition, a pair of black slacks, and a black shirt. Not exactly the tux and suits that corporates seemed to wear, but it'd do. When he came down the stairs, Larella was sitting on the countertop playing with the damn cat. She'd changed into some sweater dress thing with a turtle-neck, black heels, and, judging from the change of skin tone from her upper body to her legs, that hosiery crap or whatever it was, and her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, her bangs framing her face. Either way, she looked absolutely delicious. Keeping his scent in check, he cocked an eyebrow at her and the cat.

"What?" She asked.

"Let's go."

"Alrighty." She hoped off the counter top, cat in hand, landing with a click from her heels. He struggled to keep his arousal in check at the sway of her breasts when she landed, succeeding after a few seconds. He noted she _still_ had the cat as she walked to the garage door.

"Do you take that damn thing with you everywhere you go?" He growled- of course, he knew the answer, but she didn't know that.

Larella laughed once at his question. "No. Daemon just likes to see him every once in a while."

"And just who exactly is this Daemon guy anyway?"

"Though you said you followed up on your clients."

"He's good at keeping secretes."

"Basically a business owner and a long time friend, with a lot of money, and he likes spending it on me and Mayrse."

"So he's your pimp."

Her eyes widened, and no doubt he could smell the flash of anger that spiced her scent.

"Uh, no. He's not my pimp, I'm not his whore. I'm not screwing him, and, for the past 5 years, the only thing he's asked of me and Mayrse is that we not screw him over."

"So he's gay then."

She cracked a smile. "No, he does have his hoes; it's just that I'm not one of them."

"You don't have to b a girl to be someone's bitch."

"I'm not going to comment on that."

"Which means I win. Let's go."

A confused expression crossed Larella's features. Since when had that conversation become a debate? Sighing, she followed him out to the garage, where there was a shiny, sleek black car. Though by car types it would be small, but by small cars it was big. Probably had to have special ordered it- she'd of liked to see him driving a normal-sized small car. Probably not ever happening.

She watched as the scenery changed from the woods Victors house was in (The better to chase his… choice… victims in, no doubt.), to the city, then to the downtown area where Daemon's business was located. She honestly had no idea what it was- something with electronics, he'd explained it once, but it had gone right over her head. He was also a terror on the stock market, but that was beside the point. That and a few lottery wins.

She smiled when they stopped in front of the glass paned, steel framed building.

**I have no idea what exactly I plan on doing to fix this, content wise, but I fixed a few grammatical issues. If ya'll could point those out when you notice them, I'd be much obliged. **


	3. Not quite the Gaurdian Angel I imagined

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines (unless other wise stated that a plotline was inspired by something else) Part of this plotline is based off a show called Criminal Minds**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission **_**is**_** illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**1****st****- Nagi suggests reading 'What the Cat Dragged in' by ****Psych**e.**B**.**Mused**** which can be found under my Favorites, towards the top. I can only hope to aspire to such greatness :)**

**2****nd- Yes. To all you 'Moonlight' fans who see a VERY strong resemblance between Daemon and Josef,(Who is played by Jason Dohring) it's because you're right ;) He's not based off of Daemon from 'The Vampire Diaries' either. Don't be fooled, though I do love Paul (who plays Stephan), since I watched Wolf Lake when it came out- shame they canceled it. He and Sophia were so cute 3**

**3rd- Review if you have time, no? Reviews make Nagi a happy lady... (She does allow anonymous reviews, and when she gets time, she likes to read reviews stories)  
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**As always, pardon any grammatical errors or OC-ness- If I didn't catch it, it's because my micrsoft didn't  
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Victor had to admit- the building was pretty impressive. But, then again, all the buildings here where the best money could buy. Larella got out of the car, the damned cat in hand, taking a few steps then turning to wait for him. Growling, he shut the engine off, and was quickly intercepted by some stupid kid saying something about Vallet; "I can park my own damn car, clearly." He snapped irritably, making sure his teeth flashed at the boy- desired result achieved. The little prick paled and hurried off to where he'd come from.

Following the tiny girl in black, he grinned when the outdoor security almost said something about the cat, but then shut up after one glance from his buddy. Guess you get special privileges if you're screwing the owner. Watching her, he noted something he'd missed before- she ever-so-slightly favored her left leg, not putting as much of her weight on it as she did the right when she stepped, causing a slight sway in her movements. Everybody had their weakness- he'd filed it away, for further examination later- that small flaw might cause major problems if shit went down.

Having not actually been in the building before, unlike her, clearly, he ghosted her, following as she went immediately up to an elevator, and pressing the top button. They didn't speak as the elevator took them up the many stories to the top of the building. He noted that she shifted her weight onto the right leg- had to have been some sort of accident as a child that her factor didn't heal. It was quiet, except for the loud purring of her cat- the silver cheetah seemed almost too big for his mistress, larger then the average housecat, though not extremely slow. Thankfully there was no annoying-as-hell music. The back wall was glass, allowing a view of the outside world- Larella watched, the cat dropping from her arms when a bird flew bye- he seemed confused at the glass, though the idiotic thing hadn't gone tumbling headlong into it- he'd simply taken a few steps, then looked confused when some unseen object blocked his path. The bird gone, he seemed as content as his black-haired mistress to watch the interactions of the people below them, ant-sized as they were.

The elevator opened up, revealing a path lined by water, plants on the other ends of the microscopic rivers. That damned cat took off, tail in the air, Larella following shortly, humming softly to herself, a bright bounce in her step. Victor walked out of the elevator, down that path (which seemed a bit skinny for his bulk).

What awaited them was a room longer then it was wide, though it was still big by all senses. There was a desk in front of the glass-paneled back wall, two black armchairs in front of that, and parallel to each other, a sofa of similar coloring in between them. There was a slightly lankly man of about 5'11 ½, with spiky brown hair, in a tailored suit. Daemon was pacing like a caged animal, irritation clearly on his face. He was holding a phone, and Victor could hear the voice on the other end, but not the words. Looking to the side, he lifted his left index finger, signaling he would be done in a moment. Larella made herself at home on the couch, slightly bobbing her left leg, which was crossed over the right. The cat hoping onto her lap, meowing loudly. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly at him, though stroking the feline none the less. Victor stood towards the door, arms crossed. He could see her agitation clearly through her stiff posture, her scent spiced with irritation.

"Yes, that's a cat, haven't you heard one before? No, Goddammit- you screw me over on this; you _won't_ live to regret it. Key term 'live'." He threatened lowly, snapping the phone shut. Sighing and shaking his head, he put his phone up. "Sorry," He started, to both Larella and him; "Damn Russians. All of them are out of their minds." He stated, as if that was an explanation. Victor could hear the mock shock and fake resentment in Larella's voice;

"_I_ am part Russian, Daemon,"

"Thus furthering my point; What, no hug?" He joked.

Again, Victor could hear her expression in her tone- "Hell no- I'm still pissed. You-"

"What did I say about all that 'You didn't call, you didn't write' bullshit?"

A sigh.

"Not to bother with it… No one could know you where alive, not even me, blah, blah, blah." Her head rolling first right then left as she quoted him.

"Thank you- surely you realize the severity of the situation then- it's never good when the food is talking about the farmer- There's a bole Weevil in this plantation, and I intend to find it."

Larella shook her head. "Leave the weird metaphors to us southern folks- And why would you even be at work in the first place if you're suppose to be dead?"

"Cat's out of the bag now, no point in letting my hard work go to ruins- which is why I've people watching you and Maryse- good to see you haven't attempted murder yet."

"Not yet at least." He could hear the grin.

"Girl, I may be paid to protect your ass, but I'll beat it into submission just as fast." He growled at her, which was responded with a sharp huff, clearing saying she'd risk calling his bluff- maybe she didn't have as much of that instinctive fear in her as he'd thought.

"Actually I was talking about Maryse- but I'll keep that in mind. Damn bitch nearly got me killed. Hope whoever you hired has one hell of an alcohol tolerance."

"I'd like to comment on how you drank enough to kill a draft horse-" Victor had to admit- he'd heard the 'drank enough to kill a small pony' expression, but never a draft horse. "and don't be stupid, no one can match that girl in a drinking competition, now, quit digressing and let's get back on track- someone's out to get me, and not afraid to go after you two, obviously."

"Thus you reason that you hire the most feared mercenary known to the human population." Larella replied irritably to him- apparently she wasn't quiet so settled to the idea as she'd originally appeared.

"Yes." Was Daemon's only response. "So, I'm looking into the Steven Shepard person- his name rings a small bell, but I can't place it to a face."

"Oh, damn- There's something you don't already know. It has frozen over in hell." Larella quipped- damn, this one had a mouth on her.

"_Anyway_, the nice man in the corner, Larella, is going to make sure you don't get your stupid self killed, since apparently an inanimate object can outsmart you."

"Nice- my ass," Victor grinned at her retort, almost making a comment on _her_ nice ass, but decided against it. "And incase you forgot, I was hammered beyond all recognition."

"Yet you where going to go out for another party night with Maryse?"

"I'm a glutton for punishment."

Victor filed that away, the back of his mind plotting the use it against her later- no idea how or when yet, but eventually. God, this was why he normally skipped over the jobs requesting a body guard of some sort- you had no idea when it would end, while with mercenary jobs, he could end things on his terms. Maybe _he_ was the glutton for punishment. These jobs normally bit him in the ass, as it never seemed to end with the pathetic would-be assassination attempts. This looked like it was going to be a brutal beating.

There was always the possibility of going on a couple jobs, if they where close by enough, or he could just drag her around with him. That could work. Take her to one his more secluded places (if there was such a thing as being more secluded then being out in the middle of 200 acres of a fucking forest.), make her lay low while he went out and killed something.

He really was every cop's worst nightmare, what with all the immunity and shit the government gave him, to keep him out of prison when they needed him most. Of course, if they could be more willing to send him out, to get those damn serial killers, the streets would almost guaranteed be killer-free. Except for him, since suicide was neither desired nor an option.

"Yes well, that's all fine and dandy, just save your masochistic behavior for when there isn't someone bent on killing you. It's hard to spoil something when it's dead."

"Yeah, well, anyway, if I die, you may have Nyroc." Larella retorted.

"Damn right, those things are expensive. I can only imagine how hard it would be to find one under $600."

"Love my kitty." She said in a cooing voice (how freaking irritating.), stroking the silver cheetah cat. "And he's smart too- he seems to have picked up on my extreme irritation at you, since he hasn't attempted any sort of contact.

"And, is there any point to this whole meeting thing, other then the obvious 'Don't get yourself killed thing'?"

Victor watched as Daemon glared at her, looked up at him, then returned to rest on the small black-haired girl. "In all actuality, no. But since I know you have the attention span of a four year old" "-Not funny." She interrupted. Apparently there was a story behind that remark. "-I wanted to make sure you were safe, and explain in clear detail what I wanted from you and your stupid self. Basic run-down, don't go anywhere publicly, alone, and I know you love those dark alley ways that are just filled to the brim with rats, cockroaches, and pedophiles, but I insist that you stay away."

After that, the pair rambled about nothing particularly interesting to Victor. He had to endure about 30 minutes of this before Daemon dismissed them on accounts of having a meeting to take care of in 5 minutes.

The ride back to his cozy little nook in the woods was just as uneventful on the way from it. Victor changed into a white wife beater and jeans, Larella into a black tank top and jeans.

"'Hokay… lemma see what I are working with here." He heard her muse out loud to herself, the southern drawl more pronounced. _What the hell is she doing?_ He wondered, leaving the den to go investigate.

The girl was fucking squatting like a frog in the kitchen, in front of the refrigerator, specifically, the door open, and she was just staring at the contents (Well, staring up at them.). He leaned against the entry way to the kitchen, curious as to what the fuck she was doing- the pantry was open as well, a giant rack of spices hung off the door. He didn't even know what half that crap was. Though they all tasted good, or else they wouldn't be in his damn house.

"What are you doing?" He asked her irately.

"Well, before, I was figuring out just about how much of a man you were, now I'm not entirely certain if I should be impressed, horrifically confused, slightly concerned, or a little of all three."

_What?_ "'Fuck that's suppose to mean?" He wasn't exactly certain if that had been meant as a subtle insult, or if she was just bad at choosing her words around a man who could be set off at a second's notice.

"Exactly what it means. However, you pass, or fail, as the case may be. Not sure if you can get your man card taken away for having a well-stocked kitchen rivaling that of my _mother's._ Seriously. I'm thinking I should be concerned. Either way, lunch'll be ready in an hour."

Victor just rolled his eyes in annoyance, returning to his den so he could get back to his game. Thank God for TiVo.

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**I've done Daemon an injustice… I had to stop writing this chapter after I started it, and any idea of what I was going to do to this chapter is gone. FAIL Nagi, fail. Anyway, I can only try to make him seem less lame later . Is it odd to listen to Kaci Brown's 'My Baby' and 'I like it like that' while typing a Victor Creed fic? . Those are the only things I've been listening too recently… God Nagi, random much…. Anyway, sorry for any suckiness. I attempted a couple humor lines, not sure if they are genuine funny though.  
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	4. Cut throat

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines (unless other wise stated that a plotline was inspired by something else) Part of this plotline is based off a show called Criminal Minds**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission **_**is**_** illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**Short chapter- I'm rebelling against my dead muse for right now, and may I give a big 'fuck you' to my life right now- I'm writing this story now, damnit, and I dare you to try and stop , I'm trying to get more into character in the chapter, rather than making the story look like I'm just stating it like it is...  
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**I'm fairly certain a few of you who are kinda lusting after a sex scene thought you'd finally gotten your wish when you saw the title of the chapter… maybe. ****Ya'll are lucky my internet died; otherwise I probably would have just entertained myself with Wajas until I was like 'Oh hell! I need to update!' So, a bit of time on Word and a shot internet connection latter, here it is.**

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Victor was fucking pissed. He felt _betrayed. _Normally when he felt betrayed, he killed the offender, and went about his business.

However, suicide was not an option. His own god damn body had betrayed him. He refused to stand for it, but there was nothing he could do about it now.

He knew the basic biological idea of sleep. As you drift off, your body temperature drops. The lower your body temperature, the sounder you slept. Well apparently Larella was a fucking _deep_ sleeper. So deep, in fact, that his body had reacted to it by raising _his_ body temperature, to a point where he'd woken up. For two seconds, he'd legitimately thought she was dead. Her body had been ice-cold, and it hadn't helped that she'd been all fucking pressed up against him, acting like a leech, and, well, leeching off his damn body heat. Fucking female. Something told him she'd B.S.'d him on making him think she was skittish at the idea of her sleeping in the same bed as him. Hey, he'd given her the damn choice between the bed and the couch. Not his fault.

Naturally, he hadn't been unable to stay in the room, horrified by this disturbing finding.

If she could get enough under his skin to screw with his psychosis, after this short an amount of time, than God help him if this mission went on for too long.

He also hadn't been able to sleep after that, so he'd paced around his den while the small feraless worked out her own heat-or-rather-lack-of issues.

Whatever, she'd get up soon, make breakfast, than they'd go to her damn day-job. And today was fucking Saturday, which meant that she was working the damn bar with that little blond skank, Maryse.

-A few hours later- +Larella POV+

She'd gotten up, alone, thankfully (Could you blame her for not wanting to wake up next to Mr. Prince Charming?). She'd made breakfast, got dressed, fed and then thrown Nyrc back into the laundry room (which he was not happy about being so easily 'replaced'- she'd have to remember to keep him away from anything shred-able that had value to her) and then had headed on to the stables. The stables sat on 80 acres of that, about half around two sides of the perimeter used as pastures for horses. There was a large arena with the barn built around it, and an outdoor arena on either side. A run down little house where Juan lived, next to the pasture that was on the opposite side of the acreage. There was a Chestnut two-year old, with a flaxen mane and tail, who'd dared to try and charge the truck. A strong, mean-looking black stallion paced in one of the outdoor arenas, trotting around, and sporadically kicking at the fence. Looks like no one was in the mood to mess with Zydrate today. "Ya know, although you don't have to stay in here the whole time, I'd appreciate if you kept downwind from the horses- last thing I need is for you to spook a horse into throwing a 10-year-old into a fence."

A growl was the only response she got. Well. Someone was cranky. She had no idea what the hell his problem was, but she had to assume that he wasn't a morning person. Rolling her eyes, she dropped down out of the truck. Apparently Linda either wasn't here yet, or was busy inside. Sweet deal, Jack. Walking quickly, Larella slipped to the 'private' side of the barn, where the boarded horses, and those owned by Linda, where stalled if they where not in a pasture.

A tall blond, who looked about 24-ish was sitting on a stall, the bay mare inside drinking from her bucket. Her golden hair was pulled back into a messy bun, with a few pieces here and there sticking out, looking like she'd been hard at work all day- even though it wasn't even 8.

"Maryse. I am going to kill you." Larella stated simply, glaring at her taller counterpart.

Maryse was all innocence, her blue eyes wide. "Why, whatever for? It's not my fault you can't hang." She replied in a very queen-bitch way.

"Well, thanks to you, I almost got killed the other night. And I do mean that quiet literally."

"Almost only counts with horseshoes and hand grenades. Hey, does that mean your ass got saved by whatever guy Daemon got to baby-sit you? Jeez, getting followed by a hot guy isn't exactly fun unless you can screw them." Maryse whined, flicking a stray strand of hair with two fingers. Earning an eye-roll, and officially dissipating Larella's anger. She hoped up on the other stall, sitting across from Maryse.

"Right- I don't see or understand your fascination with sex. It's nothing but a bore, and a dreadful disappointment." Larella retorted with a long drawl and the 'dreadful' rolled and drawn out.

"Ah, deary, that's because, pardon the pun, you got screwed." was the cheeky reply Maryse gave. "Just because you had a couple bad quickie screws during your estrus doesn't mean you should condemn the entire species. I know-"

"_Absolutely not!_ I am not screwing _anyone_ you have screwed, Maryse, and that is final."

"Why not, you wouldn't turn down a car just because I had driven it before."

"That's not the point. If I had sex with him (whoever _he_ is) then, if he'd screwed you, than I'd have basically had sex with you. And that is not okay."

"Using that knowledge, then you would have banged every chick each of your fuck-buddies ever had." Maryse said with a grin, thinking she'd turned the tide her way, even though this wasn't a battle of any kind.

"But I don't know them, nor will I ever talk to them. And if I do, I wouldn't know. With you, you crazy whore, you'd want to compare stories and technique." She stated visibly shivering, then shuddering in horror. Somebody might have expected a bad reaction from Maryse at being a called a 'crazy whore' however, their relationship was like that of a pair of girls in a high school clique. They could pick at, fight, and casually insult each other, but as soon as some other whore got involved, the shit would hit the fan."Now, don't you have horse crap to muck, or something productive to do?"

"Nope, not today. Linda caught Brent sitting on Kiemo in the stall, and, naturally, as that is a rule-breaker, she designated that he be the official horse-shit-cleaner-upper-afterer. Besides, I technically don't work _for _her, as neither do you. We train horses. Not pick up shit. Or teach pesky 10 year olds how to make a left turn."

Larella laughed at that. "So, what's my story about my absence yesterday?" No doubt the blonde had come up with a dramatic cover-up.

"You got jumped; they put a blade in you." She replied simply. What the hell? That wasn't Maryse's style at all. She had a flair for the dramatic.

"Linda knows I have a healing factor, idiot." Larella replied while simultaneously smacking herself on the forehead- the stupid twit.

"The blade was in your throat."

A loud smack was audible as Larella slapped herself again on the forehead. And then shivered in fright at the thought- if there was one thing that made her shake on her spurs, it was throat slitting of any kind. She froze up at the sight of it- she couldn't watch horror movies if there was even so much as one scene with a cut throat.

"Ugh, why do you hurt me?"

"Because it would explain why you didn't pop in late-it's not exactly a secrete that you can't stand throat-slitting. So if you see her, act kinda dazed. After all, your worst nightmare did happen to you." Maryse concluded happily.

"You evil, skanky little hoe-bag, you thought of everything, didn't you?" She grinned.

At that moment, they looked over at the sound of footsteps and wheels traveling over gravel, and a 5'11 young man who looked about Larella's physical age came down the isle, dragging a wheel barrel behind him, and a rake. Looks like Brent really was the official shit-picker-upper today. Without having to be told, Larella allowed a slightly haunted look to wash over her features, as if someone had dropped an atom bomb on her head, and she still wasn't entirely sure what had just happened. He looked at her, and she saw a mix of pain and white-hot anger in his eyes, before he walked past the pair. Yeah- another well-known secrete was that Brent had the hots for Larella. Too bad she was just about fed up with the male species. He'd just have to settle with getting as close as possible without toeing the line.

"Yeah… I think I'm going to go train Satan now." Larella stated, hoping off the stall, and grabbing a halter and lead rope. She walked to the outdoor arena with the stallion, who looked, as always, very pissed off. He violently kicked the fence, pinning his ears back. Well. Someone was feisty today. Hopefully he would calm down when she fed him- otherwise it was going to be a long few hours. She also needed to work Bright and Lilly. Putting the halter on, she led the angered stallion to a stall (after he lashed out at old Rebel, even if the elderly horse was in his stall), and then dumped some food into his bin. While the evil little bastard ate, she sighed, grabbing his tack. Bridle, saddle, saddle blanket, grooming bucket. When he was done, she tacked him up- Bridle first, as it was the easiest- then she tied him to the stall door, so he couldn't turn and bite her when she saddled him and picked his hooves. Obviously having been fed had calmed him down some, but he was still prone the occasional nip. Which hurt.

She took him to the outdoor arena he'd been in, dismounting long enough to open, and then close the gate, before mounting him again. Warming up, she alternated between walking and trotting, then stretching him out by cantering. When he was loose and limber, she started the real training. Zydrate was built perfectly for reining, (which was a not-as-well-known Western Sport as it's distant cousin, barrel racing) he was low to the ground, well cantered, so he could do the different maneuvers more easily than a larger horse. Spins, stops, rundowns, ad circles. Her job was to make sure he learned his stuff, and than teach the daughter of the man who'd bought Zydrate.

Sitting up in the saddle, the stallion was relaxed, ears forward, powerful hind quarters moving smoothly. There where few things that could give her a thrill like going top-speed on horse back, the feel of the tension and relaxation of the strong muscles in between her legs, through the leather of the saddle. Surprisingly, his problems where when you were out of the saddle- the second you're in, all of a sudden he's all sugar and sweetness, willing to please. Horses were freaking psychopaths. Cantering around the arena, she did figure-8 movements, switching leads in the middle each time. When she was in the middle of the fence line on the far side, she galloped the stallion straight down the arena, stopping halfway, making the horse slide- his front feet kept moving, as if he was 'walking'. Her heart rated, adrenaline pumping as dirt flew in all directions after the pair. She immediately made him turn, the long, untied reins moving in the clock-wise spin, her hair trying to move around in the confines of it's hair-tie.

Once, twice, thrice, four times and a quarter turn extra the stallion turned on his hind leg, spinning on the pivot. Stopping and 'resting', the stallion relaxed underneath her, facing the same way he had when he'd made his sliding stop, before rearing and turning in a 180, and taking off in a lope. Larella worked the same basic moves in different patterns, debating a free-style routine for the teenage daughter to learn for her first competition.

About forty-five later, when she finished, there was a fine layer of sweat covering the stallions back, as well as on the back of Larella's neck, the long strands of hair sticking, and starting to itch as the sweat dried. Breathing heavily, she slowly winded him down, dropping to a trot, then walking for five minutes, as the rapid expansion and contraction of both horse and rider's ribcage slowed, returning to the regular rhythm.

Taking him back to his stall, she brushed him out, giving him a little bit of food, and refilling his water bucket. He drank greedily, nearly draining a third of the bucket before he so much as looked at his food.

She repeated the process with Bright and Lilly, working both the Palomino and silver dapple into a good sweat. When she finished, it was almost 2 o'clock. The brown mare underneath her had bits of cream-colored mane and tail sticking to her lithe body, as Larella started to wind the mare down. She could feel someone watching her, but ignored it- there was no else in sight, other than cars. It was probably Victor, who, for some ungodly reason, hadn't gotten out of the truck yet.

What she didn't know was that he was quietly snoring the driver's side seat, catching up on the sleep he had missed the previous night.

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**Review please, if you have the time and are so inclined to do so.  
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	5. Next Contestant

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines (unless other wise stated that a plotline was inspired by something else)Part of this mini-plotline is based off a show called Criminal Minds**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission **_**is**_** illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**1****st****: Ack. Um, yeah, I'm not really feeling like going through and typing it out again, but long story short, my muse effin' sucks right now, since my cat died a very cruel death. Her initial sickness was what caused the hiatus, however she died shortly after I updated SDBN. And now I am writing to distract myself. Oh yeah, I also won't be re-writing this in 1****st**** person- I tried, it did not go well. So, SDBN will stay in 3****rd****.**

**2****nd****: Somebody dies in this chapter. I'll let that sit in, than physiologically torture you for most of the chapter on if it's someone you care about, or just some random Joe on the street.**

**3****rd****: I'm not gonna hold chapters hostage until I get a set amount of reviews anymore, but that doesn't mean I won't get insanely happy each time I get an e-mail saying I have a review. Plus, I'd really like to know what ya'll think, dammit. I allow anonymous reviews, and get e-mails each time ya'll add me to your favorite story list, or story alert. So I know who isn't reviewing, lol.**

**Happy readings, my little fishies**

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Larella was still unaware that it had not been Victor who'd been watching her while she'd worked the silver dapple, Lilly. He'd woken up by the time she'd finished working down Lilly, brushed, and fed the mare. She didn't ask any questions, so he had no reasons to suspect anything. Tired, she'd napped on the 45 minute drive back, though refused to allow herself to completely fall asleep in such close proximity to the larger predator. Her other half point-blank refused to allow it. Logic dictated that since Victor was being paid to protect her, she should really have no issues about having her back to him. But the primal, animalistic half still didn't trust Victor, and in tense situations, her base instincts always won out. That was just the way things worked.

So, rather than making it easier on herself and curling up and drifting off, she had to twist herself into a position that was actually comfortable enough to sleep in, while making sure her back was against the door.

Back in the house, she'd slipped into the downstairs bathroom to shower. Naturally, though also pointlessly, she locked the door. Even if a locked door wouldn't keep him out if he wanted in, she felt more comfortable with the small barrier before stripping down to nothing. (On a side note, he probably had the key floating around somewhere, too.) Not allowing herself any extra time to enjoy the hot shower after the initial 'Ahhh….' moment when the water first hit her, she washed her hair and body, and, deciding to shave out of the shower, took care of the business she couldn't get to in a pair of shorts, and got out. Towel drying her hair as best she could, she left it alone otherwise- when it was completely dry, she'd run the straighter through it a little, to tame the frizz. Putting on a pair of short cotton shorts, and a dark pink, lace trimmed tank top, she shaved her legs and under her arms. Finished with that, she changed the shorts into a pair of denim Capri pants, and throwing on a button-up green cotton shirt, though left it unbuttoned for the moment.

From there, she navigated her way to the laundry room, snatching up Nyroc, who mewled, annoyed at being left in the white room. Making her way back through the hallway, past the bathroom, and back through the kitchen, she paused. The living room was connected to the kitchen, separated by the space needed for a back door, which you could see nothing but trees for as far as you could see. The black tile changed to a tan-looking carpet, with a fireplace as the centerpiece for the far wall. A cabinet was on the left side of the Fireplace, against the wall and centered in its own right, with a plasma TV placed in the center of the cabinet. On the right wall, there was a large black leather couch, with a coffee table placed in between the two, though closer to the couch for obvious reasons. Two bookshelves, one of ether side of the magnificent fireplace, full of books from top to bottom.

Seriously, there was no way in hell someone like Victor Creed could decorate a multi-million dollar house as seamlessly as he seemed to have. He'd better have a decorator, or else there'd be no other reasonable explanation: he was gay.

And, if that was the case, she might as well go kill herself, because it would reinforce the belief that all hot guys (and she wouldn't deny he was nice to look at) were either taken or gay.

For some reason, she randomly remembered that it was a week before Turkey Day, as it was called in her family. She'd need to make plans to get a plane ticket back down south or something. Actually, no something. There was no way in hell she'd drive all the way down to effin' Atlanta, Georgia. No thanks. It had been painful enough driving for anywhere from freaking Dallas. Of course, she'd get to see all of her relatives, which was good. Except for one. If Sidney was there, all hell would break loose. Eventually, with a family as big as hers, (what with her grandmother having been one of 15, and all the descendants having spawned since then, rapidly. And that was just on her father's side.) there would be drama within the family. Naturally, it fell to Larella and her 2nd cousin, whose mother was an absolute bitch. Along with a few other feud's in the family. Thus, there was always choices to make- if you especially wanted someone to come, you couldn't invite a certain someone, or any direct relatives of theirs, for fear of a fight.

Walking to the couch, she sat down on it, letting Nyroc out of her grasp while the cat settled down next to her. Looking down, she was horrified by what she saw.

No, it wasn't littered with torture porn magazines.

Or even normal porno magazines.

It was far, far, _far_ worse that that.

There, on the glass table, where 5 remotes. Effin' _5!_ Why the hell does anyone need 5 remotes to control a TV? What is the sudden craze with having a remote for power, one for volume, one for the actual satellite. Even then, that was only 3. And there was no satellite box, DVD, or any type of music equipment that could be seen. And none of the remotes had symbols that clearly were that of a satellite company.

Ah, hell.

+Victor POV+

After about an hour and a half of relative silence, Victor decided to make sure Larella hadn't spontaneously died for no apparent reason. On the other side of the house, in his den, it took a few minutes to get to the living area, and although he hadn't exactly known what to expect, he hadn't expected to see her sitting on the couch, the TV on the default channel whenever it was first turned on, and she was venomously glaring at the coffee table.

Cocking an eyebrow, he easily leaned against the archway.

"Problem?"

Larella looked up at him, her eyes narrow slits, she looked back at the remotes, back to him, and then once again to the remotes. "Ah dun know which one to use." She stated, twanging.

"You got the damn thing on, didn't you?" He prodded, flashing a grin. She glared at him;

"It's called a power button. Most TV's have them. Ya hit tha button, and tha TV turns on." She explained slowly, as if she was talking to a retarded 5-year-old. Though probably with a nastier tone then she would actually talk with to a retarded kid.

"Watch your damn mouth, girlie." He growled out, irritated at her words.

She said the fatal words before she could even realize how big a mistake she'd made; "Or _what_? Yu'll spank m- Oh!" She cried out sharply in shock- in the time it'd taken her to speak those words, he'd easily stalked across the distance separating them, grabbing her by one of her wrists, and jerking it up into the air. Grabbing the other with his free hand, he gathered both of her wrists, holding her just inches above the ground. He was very aware of just how little effort on his part it would take to snap the delicate bones in half. In the same motion, his free hand firmly smacking her ass, causing the shocked yelp that had escaped her lips. Unable to fight him off with her hands, and he was too far away to bite, she lashed out at him, aiming a kick at his chest. Not surprisingly, it didn't so much as cause him to blink. A pleading whine escaped her throat. He silenced it by grabbing her jaw, and jerking her towards him. She hissed feraly when he kissed her, threatening to bite without having to use words. He chuckled, pushing her away, half dropping her, and half throwing her. Nyroc hissed, jumping out of the way to avoid his mistress landing on him when she landed on the couch with a bounce, before she settled, though she seemed stunned by what exactly had just happened.

Chuckling again, he turned to leave, and leaned to the side slightly, tapping the middle remote with one claw before striding out the room, returning to his den, a wide, cruel grin on his face.

+Larella POV+

She hadn't been spanked since she was… dear God, like 10 years old. She couldn't remember what it was for, exactly, but it was probably something stupid. But it had been her father, making a very good attempt to make her associate whatever it was she'd done with punishment. But Victor'd just… oh sweet Mary. And then he'd kissed her… what the effin' hell? She'd been too stunned to do anything but hiss. Not that she'd of been able to do much damage, what with her hands being held hostage, and clearing he wouldn't be phased if she kicked him. There was always the cheap groin shot, but that would have caused more harm than good. There's no way she'd be able to get out of that alive. For one, she'd have to navigate her way through the woods, which she hadn't explored, and manage to escape before he was back up and hunting her down. Assuming she got that far, she'd have to continue to elude him until something else caught his eye.

So that was a bad idea in general.

Although, it had been a stupid move on her part to smart-ass someone with an obvious extreme Alpha Male complex. She'd been around enough of them to know just how quickly it could go from fun, games, and teasing, to said male needing to re-assure himself of his dominance in some manner or another.

Taking a moment to recover, she shook her head. Nyroc hoped back on the couch, yowling. Grabbing the remote that Victor had said was the money maker, she got used to the controls, and started searching around for something to watch. Seeing the time, she still had a few more hours before she should start getting ready for her night-job. Flipping through, she saw an episode of Cougar Town, and selected that for now. Curling up on the couch, her silver cheetah cat slipped onto her lap, purring as Larella petted him while watching the TV.

A few episodes of random shows later and it was time for her get ready for her job at the bar. Digging through her bags, she pulled out a denim miniskirt, and a black, ribbed tank top with 1-inch straps. She fussed with the skirt for a bit, making sure that it wasn't riding up too high before putting on a pair of strappy black heels. Running her fingers through her hair to make sure it was dry. Spritzing it with something to help keep the frizz down, she also used her straightener, not completely removing the wave her hair had, but made it mostly straight, and have soft waves. A little hairspray (oh, how it smelt), and that part was done. Pulling her phone out, she checked it; she had 15 minutes before they would need to leave- it'd take her less than 10 to do the dramatic 4-color eye shadow on a purple scale, ranging from what almost looked to be a pink-ish, down to a plum color that looked near black, mascara, and eyeliner. And no, she didn't sport, nor support, the raccoon eyes. Just a simple black line around her eye to give it more definition, and that was all it took, thank you.

Sighing, she checked her phone. 5 minutes. She was going to stay in here though- even with her not exactly reacting to what had happened a few hours ago the way she should have reacted (cried, screamed, what have you) was not how she was processing it. When he'd kissed her, however brief, of course she'd instinctively tried to get away- but that was more of a personality trait than repulsion. Larella had to be in control of her life, and be the ultimate judge of what happened, when, and how. She'd get stressed when things didn't work according to plan, but she'd try her best to work with it, if only to feel she was still in control, if that meant faking being happy when in reality she was dying; She hadn't asked or given permission for him to kiss her, which had been the cause of her reaction. The part that scared her most was that she hadn't wanted him to stop, and it'd taken all of her self-control not to roll on her back and ask for more.

This was not healthy for her, or safe. Men where too big a risk, too big a disappointment. Unless you had them tied down as a blood relative of some sort, they could not be depended on. They'd say what they had too to get what they wanted, and then they split faster then a banana. The only time she'd ever allowed a man to get in her pants was once every five years, when she had an itch she couldn't ignore or scratch herself. And she hadn't enjoyed it in a long, long time either.

Especially after what happened to her with Brandon. Like hell she'd ever go through that again- she'd make sure she never got put in that kind of position again. He was the reason she had the obsessive need to micromanage her life. And that would be 20 years ago this upcoming summer.

Hell, even when she was at her most vulnerable, every 5 years, like a freaking cycle, she still micromanaged. She ignored the ones who paid too much attention to her- she selected a pony from the herd, and brought him back with her. And apparently she sucked at choosing partners, since, from popular opinion, screwing was suppose to be good. It just irritated and pissed her off to no end.

It was very possible they weren't as bad as she thought- maybe Brandon had just done too much damage, and ruined her chances of ever being able to find a good man, settling down and having kids.

Well, he'd certainly fucked up the 'having kids' part of her plan.

Shit. She was going to be an old spinster. Her only joys in her life being her grand nieces and nephews, and of course, her cats. No spinster is complete without her cats.

Wait a minute… She was almost 40, no kids, no husband or even a boyfriend, and she lived alone with a cat.

Well fuck.

Things where not exactly looking up for her. Hell, maybe she'd be better off letting those assassins take off her damned head.

Sighing, she bent over, folding her arms and pressing her forehead against the smooth marble of the sink's countertop. She stayed like that for a few moments, before a rap at the bathroom door shocked her out of her dreamland.

"You fuckin' ready yet?" Victor asked, irritated.

"Yea'. Have been." She replied.

"'Fuck you still in there for?" He prodded.

"Nothing." Was the snappy, and only, answer he got, and if he asked anymore damn questions, the answer was going to be her claws in his face. For whatever reason, she was feeling abnormally aggressive, as opposed to her normal self. Or façade, if she really wasn't feeling all too happy, but not in the mood to explain herself to anyone. Either way. Pissed off wasn't an emotion that occurred all too frequently.

Larella's irate mood stayed with her on the way to the bar, refusing to so much as look at Victor, which was difficult to do without presenting her back, which was a no-no. He seemed to be enjoying himself, probably thinking he was the reason that she was in a bad mood. Well, it was partially his fault, but that was beside the point. She just wanted to get done with her shift.

Surprisingly, they got there a little earlier than her usual time. She ignored Victor's eyes on her backside, still irritated for whatever reason.

The bar was a large square-shaped room, the edges lined with booths, and tables littered the floor in random places. The actual bar, with its liquor galore, was in the middle of the floor. For obvious reasons, there wasn't anyone there yet. Well, except for Maryse, and a couple of the other girls who served the drinks, and guys who made sure the drunks (or non-drunks, as the case may be) kept their hands off the girls. There was a new girl, a red-head of roughly 25 years. And, from the looks and smells of things, she was just the average joe human- not a mutant. Oh, if she wasn't careful, she'd get eaten alive. Bar fights between two mutants could get nasty.

Larella hoped up on the counter, her heels clicking when she jumped. Crossing her right leg over her left, she hummed a nameless tune, the crossed leg slightly bouncing up and down. Maryse walked over from the other side of the actual bar, inside its confines. "So." The blonde started.

"So." Larella replied brightly, as if that was an actual response to Maryse's statement, nodding her head twice, slowly. "'nyone told the new gurl the proper way to pick crap up?" she asked her blonde friend.

"Nope. Don't think so. Maybe. Hell, I dunno."

"Oi! New gurl!" Larella called out. The red head looked up. "Just incase anyone hasn't told ja- ya won't be working the bar, since that's me and Maryse's thing. Thus, ya may be subjected to picking up a few beer bottles to futilely attempt to keep this place looking decent. When ya go to pick it up, bend at the knees, not the waist. 'ase you failed to notice, tha skirts don't allow much wiggle room. Last thing we need's a show." She joked, and silently laughed at the uncomfortable expression on the girl's face. One of the guys, Lorcan, just rolled his eyes. Everyone looked up when the door opened, revealing Tommy the Drunk. He was always here the minute the bar opened, and stayed until Larella and Maryse point-blank refused to give him more booze. He was an older man, in his 50's, not ridiculously tall, but he wasn't average height either. Lanky, he was balding, his hair turning grey. Other than the drunk part though, he was completely harmless.

"Hi all." He greeted everyone. With various different replies, they all responded back. (Except, of course, for Victor) Larella spun around on the counter, so she was facing inside the corral-like bar. Jumping down with a click, she grabbed a beer, giving it to Tom without him having to ask. At this point, it was understood that he'd buy however many beers Larella and Maryse would give him before sending him home. What he didn't know what that they where slowly, but surely, making sure he was less drunk each time he left. Once he'd almost called her on it, but she'd convinced him that he only thought he wasn't getting as many beers as he used too, because he was drinking slower, so they lasted longer, and that night he'd been drinking 'unusually fast' then she'd played the 'maybe your day was stressful?' card, and pretended to listen while serving drinks.

Victor grabbed Larella's arm, her wrist, specifically, and that seemed to immediately grab her attention, the memory of what'd happened hours ago still fresh. She glared at him, her eyes flicking for a second as the door opened and a group of about 5 guys walked in. You could just tell by looking at them that they thought they were people. Diffident Alpha males, even though they probably had their own hierarchy in the group. Hell.

She turned back to Victor. "Yes?" She asked innocently, and tried to pull her arm back, but he refused to let go.

"What's a guy gotta do to get a drink around here?" He asked curiously with a wicked, fanged grin.

"All ya gotta do's ask nicely, and let go of the bar tender before she jumps over said bar and eats you." She replied, her voice light and sweet, nodding her head a few times at different points in the sentence. What with only the 6 guys, plus Victor and the staff, it wasn't very loud yet, and the five guys looked on at this. One in particular watched for a slight bit too long. To a point where Victor had noticed, and, all while holding eye contact with the guy, deliberately ran his claws across Larella's arm, making her bleed. More importantly, making a statement. She belonged to him, and he wasn't going to let some little boy think he had a millionth of a chance of taking her. She hissed in annoyance, shaking her hand once while the guy seemed stunned that the wound had healed so quickly.

She grabbed and gave Victor the beer; "And just so we're clear, you still have to pay."

He answered with an eye roll, popping the cap off himself and taking a swig.

Within an hour, the bar had quiet a lot of people, obviously mostly male. Pool tables where full, darts were getting thrown, and of course there were the drinking games going on. A few guy just sat wherever they where and watched the TVs that were scattered around the room. A couple of mutants were showing off their abilities, though cautious not to cause any damage. Marty, the bar owner, was well known for having no tolerance for mutants who couldn't control their powers in his bar. Or, for that matter, he had no tolerance for anyone who tried to hurt anything of his bar. And he was a mean old guy.

The guy who seemed to be the Alpha male of the little group of 5 eventually had the nerve to go over to the bar, towards the end of the night, and start to chat up Larella. Of course, it was on the side opposite from Victor, who sat there and watched, alternating between a wicked grin and a glare at the guy.

"Hi." He started; obviously doing his best to avoid looking at Victor, though that was hard from the sheer intensity. Larella looked up. He was tall, about 6' even, good build, with dirty blonde hair and green eyes.

"Hello." She replied lightly- she freaking hated it when these guys tried to hit her up for a 'good time'. More like a waste of time. Thankfully, that was what Lorcan was for, along with a couple other guys who made sure the gents behaved themselves. That and there was Victor.

From his scent, he was feral as well, but not as extreme as Larella or Victor- he was probably barely able to track anything, and had little to no healing factor. So even though he looked older than her, and a feral, he was probably a hell of a lot closer to his physical age then she was to hers. She looked back down to the glass she was cleaning, trying to silently convey that what she was doing was more interesting than him at the moment.

"Name's Aaron." He said, leaning over the bar. She looked up for a second, making sure her body language conveyed her boredom.

"Larella." Still light, she suddenly became very interested in a certain spot on the glass she was cleaning.

At this point, most guys may have gotten the hint- when someone's more interested in cleaning, it's a good tipper that they don't want to talk. This guy was persistent though. He was trying to intimidate her with his size into a conversation. Dropping his head lower, he grinned behind her, presumably at Victor. "Larella? That's a nice name. So, when do you get off?" It took everything she had not to fire back an innuendo that also insulted him.(one that obviously would involve 'getting off') She supposed mind games could be fun. Especially with Alpha Males used to getting what they wanted.

"'bout 45 minutes." She could feel the irritation just radiating off Victor, threatening to turn into a mood foul enough to start a fight. Dammit Victor. She switched to another glass, and started cleaning it.

"Really? How about I take you out some time? It's not every day you meet a female feral. And I promise I don't bite –or scratch. Can't say the same for your little friend over there." Aaron asked, then stated, gesturing over to Victor.

She shook her head, still playing the role of nice girl who wanted out, but didn't want to offend him, or some other bullshit. "Ah, yes, the 8th wonder of tha world. Ah dun think he'd like that all too much." She responded, wiping down her glass once more before getting a 3rd one.

"What, he your boyfriend?" She shook her head no. "Brother?" another shake no. "Some other type of male relative?" A third head shake. "Then I don't see how he'd have any say in the matter." Aaron responded. If looks could kill, Aaron would have spontaneously combusted by now- Larella could feel the heat of Victor's glare, and she wasn't even the one in trouble at the moment. "Come on, just one date. What, scared you'll like it?" God damn this prick was consistent. Persistent. What the hell ever, now _she_ was starting to get pissed off. Acting as if she was debating, she decided what she should say to him. When she'd chosen her words, she made a hand gesture to draw him in closer. She leaned in, and whispered;

"Actually, even though he's none of the above, unfortunately, he's playing a pretty damn big role in my life. Just so you know, he can hear this entire conversation, right now, even when I'm whispering. And even if he wasn't here, my answer would still be the same. I've played coy, I've been subtly rude, openly dismissive, and now I guess I'll have to be blunt- _fuck off_." She growled irritably at him. The expression on his face was priceless. Obviously he wasn't used to having a girl turn him down, and then not being able to resist whatever charm he threw their way. And, although this next line wasn't really necessary, she said it anyway- "And even if, for some ungodly reason, I did let you have me, you wouldn't have the damndest clue what to do with me." That seemed to do the trick. He sharply turned, muttering about 'fucking bitches' before storming off back to his little crew. They gave him a bit of hell because of his failure, and then settled back down.

After that, peace and order (or as much as could be had in a bar) was restored, and it was nothing outrageous, other than Tom, who insisted on one last beer before leaving, (which Larella refused.) and a couple of guys who'd not wanted to leave. Allowing the guys to handle that, the girls cleaned up the usual mess. It was Larella's turn to clean the glasses. Lorcan offered to stay until she was finished (everyone else was leaving), but she shooed him off, saying that Victor wouldn't pull anything, and he'd be more than capable of handing somebody who did try to pull something. He left, leaving the pair alone. When she was almost, she turned to him.

"C'n you go turn tha truck on, preetty please? It's gonna be _cold_." Yeah, when it came to heat and warmth, she had no problems whining and complaining and begging in a style that would piss off a 4 year old. She was from the warmth of Texas, where things rarely even froze. She'd never remembered having seen snow until she'd gone further up the great old Lone Star state, to visit her paternal grandparents in effin' Stinette, Texas when she'd been 4. _Tiny_ ass town. But it had been so pretty. All that white. Until it had turned red, however.

-A few hours previous-+Andrew POV+

Across town, in the corporate area of downtown, there was some pretty scandalous happenings… happening. Or rather, more scandalous than the man had ever imagined. And it might be so scandalous as to cost him his life.

In the CEO office of a well-known company, a man was awaiting a call. He loved his wife, he really did, but she was just too tame- good for raising children to stay out of trouble, and prevent the chance of bad press about her getting out to the public; bad for someone who had specific wants in the bedroom, that she couldn't fulfill. No, not wants. _Needs._ Yes, it was the oldest excuse in the book for infidelity. But for him, it was real. If it hadn't been for these once-a-week visits with Audrey, he had no idea how he'd have been able to function.

But Audrey had retired as a call-girl, and had said that as soon as she sold her client list, he'd have another girl, just as capable as she was at giving him want he wan- needed. They'd been together for nearly 14 years. She was only 32. But she said that she needed to get her priorities straight. He'd asked if she'd stay with him, be his mistress. He could take care of her- he had the money to do whatever he had too to keep her. Buy her a house, support her- hell, if she wanted kids, he'd be willing to negotiate getting her to the front of the line on the list of people waiting to adopt newborns. Anything so that he could keep his fix.

But she said that enough was enough, and she wanted out of the life she currently led. Money was certainly not an issue for her- she came from a good stock of call-girls, and very pricey. He knew he wasn't her only client, but she got at least a 10,000 dollar paycheck each week, for working one night.

It had been a month.

A month of struggling, a month of suffering. Once again, he'd tried to get his wife to cooperate, but she'd shyly refused.

But Audrey had sold her client list. She'd called him a week and a day ago. Said she'd made very clear to the girl, of his needs, and that he was to be the top client no matter what she did. Said her final farewells, and bid him well before hanging up for the last time.

So, he'd met Shevana, gotten used to her. Audrey had been right- Shevana was the perfect replacement. He'd been able to function again, and his wife had been visibly relieved that he'd stopped pressuring her. She, of course, had no idea about the affair. He had his lawyer back up his story that he had meetings with another CEO who he was working with on Saturdays, about things that both could do to make sure both companies prospered, as they both tied closely to each other- if one failed, the other was doomed.

And it was true enough. Except those meetings happened during the workday, not at 10'clock at night.

His pants tightened in anticipation. He nearly jumped when the phone rang.

He struggled to make sure his voice was steady. "Hello?"

"_Andrew?" _A seductive, commanding voice asked on the other line.

"Yes?"

"_I am so sorry I'm late- I had timed everything so that I could be there on time, but it appears fate had other plans. I'm making my way into the building now, I'll be there soon. If you're a good boy, I'll let you spank me."_ It was Shevana. Thank god. She was 30 minutes late- he'd been terrified that he'd been forgotten.

+Shevana POV+

It was ridiculous how many men in the workplace needed to be dominated sexually to release the stress of the day. Her own husband being one of them. Dear God, Shevana had no idea how Audrey had done it. 3 of the 10 men had to have weekly sessions, otherwise they imploded on themselves. Sometimes twice, or three times a week, if the workday was extremely stressful.

Then again, Audrey didn't have to work around a husband and 3 kids. So she could afford wasting at least 3 days a week for so many years, and then random booty-calls the rest of the time.

And Shevana'd gotten that itch again. She'd killed one of them already. Not the weekly ones, but one of the late night booty calls. The bastard had talked about how he was so good at keeping child support away from his wife. Shevana had snapped and killed him. Not brutally, like with an axe or butcher knife or an icepick- she'd waited until he'd called again, and then poisoned him. It'd been pretty easy.

Then, during her 'therapy' session part of the call, with Andrew, she'd discovered that he was going to dump his wife. As in, completely cut her out. All because she couldn't provide what this guy needed. And cutting out the wife means cutting out the kids. She couldn't allow history to repeat itself, not like this. So, she'd do his children a favor. They may see it as a tragedy now, but eventually they may come to discover the blessing it would hold.

Smiling brightly, dressed the part of the professional woman of today, she had a white button down, a black jacket, and a black pencil skirt, with a pair of heels. Her long black hair was pinned up in a bun, though it'd be simple to remove it. Carrying a brief case, she smiled at the guard, who let her in. Looking down for no apparent reason, she looked back up, and straightened her black-rimmed, rectangular glasses.

She made her way up the elevator, and onto the floor that Andrew was on. Pulling out her bun, and unbuttoning the top half of her shirt, revealing a lacy lavender bra against the tanned skin. She opened the door, inviting herself in.

"Ready to work?" She purred at him. He nodded mutely. Setting the briefcase down on the table that held various liquors, she strolled over to him, slowly undoing her shirt. When she had finished, she let the jacket and shirt fall to the floor of their own accord. She smiled sweetly at him, removing her glasses and setting them on the desk. She slipped one leg across him, standing to the side. "Tense day?" She asked.

Another silent nod.

"Mmmm… I bet. Let mummy fix that for you." She proceeded to unbutton his own shirt, discarding it along with his jacket. Pulling at his chair, she wheeled him from behind his desk to in front of it. Really, for someone his age, he wasn't that bad in the looks department. Though he didn't have abs, he didn't have a beer belly, or chicken legs. What he did have was a head full of grey hair. Leaving him there, she walked over to the suitcase, and opened it. Pulling out two handcuffs, she returned to him, cuffing each hand the arm of the chair it laid on. She could already see him starting to relax, having the control taken from him. Giggling softly, she shook her head slightly. She knelt in front of him, undoing his pants and slipping them down and off his ankles. He'd taken his shoes off already. Looking up at him, she raised herself, grabbing him with one hand, she kissed him. She gently squeezed his length, delighting in his expression. Lowering herself again, she licked him through the fabric. He jerked, his hands trying grab at her, but failing. She stood up, stepping away, and turning from him. Deliberately bending forward, she undid her skirt, slowly removing it, over her ass, and allowed it to drop to the floor. Not turning around, and staying bent over, she heard him whimper and struggled against the handcuffs at the sight of the lavender thong covering her snatch, though it offered a good few of her ass. Poor boy was like a dog that smelt a bitch in heat, but too chained up to get to her. Stepping out of the fabric, she once again walked too and opened up the suitcase. Pulling a small vile with a powdery substance, she grabbed a glass, pouring Scotch in it. Hiding the next part from view, she slipped the powder into the scotch, watching it dissolve seamlessly. Dropping a few ice cubes, she returned to him. Walking in a circle, in her scanty clothes and heels, stopped when she was behind him. She roughly grabbed his hair, slightly pulling his head back. She held the drink up to him.

"Drink." Was the command. He complied, drinking all of it. It didn't take long for the poison to begin to work. He started struggling violently, toppling over in his chair. "Oh, Oh, Oh, we can't have that. Stand still." She ordered, hauling him back up. He was unable to speak, unable to scream. He convulsed a bit more, before becoming still, his heart stopped.

Not in any sort of rush, she took her time putting her clothes back on, her hair in place, and making sure to clean up the things she'd touched. Though she wasn't in the system, she didn't think, she didn't want to take a chance. Turning back to the man now dead, she closed his eyes, before taking a tube of pink lipstick, and making a pink 'X' over each eye, from brow bone to check bone. They'd figure out she was the one who'd done it- it was her signature. She had to do it when she killed.

Making sure everything was in order, and she left nothing behind, she took her suitcase, and the dead man tied to the chair, and wheeled him out into the hallway. There where two elevators- she opened one, adjusting him the way she wanted him to be found- face forward, in his underwear, chained down, and put down like the dog he was. What a shocker that would be.

Sighing, she went down the other elevator, walking out of the building, the guard unaware of what he'd just allowed to happen. Her phone vibrated.

"Hello? Steven? Yes, I didn't know you where back yet. I was out. I'll be there soon." She clicked her phone shut, getting into her car and driving off into the night.

+Larella POV+

Being the last one in, it was her job to close up. She'd calmed down now, not quiet so ready to rip someone's head off as she had been. She locked all the doors, checked the windows, and, satisfied everything was the way it was suppose to be, she slipped out the back, into the alley way. Her muscles instantly tensed at the chilling cold. She shivered violently, and it took her a second to get the key in the lock. She looked down the alley, where Victor sat in the truck. Crossing her arms over her chest, shivered, she half walked half jogged towards the truck. With a dead end on one side, and a feral with a foul attitude on the other, she felt relatively safe.

So naturally she was stunned when she heard a few quick steps behind her. Scenting, she caught the scent of male feral, but in the few milliseconds it took her to realize it wasn't Victor, somebody wrapped their arms around her waist, jerking them too her, a blade pressed at her throat. She froze up, her mind shutting down from her immense fear- whoever he was, he had her by her non-existent balls. She shivered again, whimpering.

"Who's the one who doesn't know what to do now, huh? I thought you'd at least fight back, but it was all just for sho-Ah!" In the time it took her to realize it was Aaron, the door from the truck flew open, and Victor was on Aaron in a matter of seconds. Grabbing the younger feral, he pulled him off of her, but also brought the blade Aaron was holding into to her flesh. She screamed, a high pitched screech, though it was more fearful than pained. She fell to her knees, one hand used to catch herself, the other flying up to her throat, which had already started to heal the wound, but her mind was still locked down in complete shock. When she pulled her hand away, she stared at it in confusion, not able to process how she'd managed to get blood on it. Looking down, the red stained her neck, running down across her collar bone. A thin line ran in between her breasts. She coughed, blood splatters hitting the pavement. Coughing up blood? Oh, that could not be good. She gagged, and coughed again, violently this time, more blood splatters popping up in front of her eyes. Her mind slowly starting to unlock, but she decided to stay on her hands and knees, not trusting her balance yet. She felt light headed, and she was aware that she shouldn't be swaying. She heard voices, and snarls, a scream, and then everything went black.

* * *

**Well dear God, that chapter took a life of its own. Oi. I had to divide it in half. BUT! The second half shant be posted 'till I feel like it. Maybe a review or two will help with my mood. Here is your incentive- there's a lemon (sex scene) in the next chapter.**

**So, wondering what happened that was so bad with Brandon? All in good time, all in good time. **

**AND REMEMBER! It's all fun and games until Victor finds the thermostat…**

**Random statement: I am visiting my grandmother as I write this (well, not literally- I'm at her house though) and there is this goddamn moth in my bedroom that won't leave my effin' computer alone at night while I'm trying to write. And I have a phobia of bugs with wings. Except for butterflies, as they is beautiful and pretty. Maybe because I had was almost, but not, stung by a bee as a child. Completely scared me, and now I'm phobically afraid to ever learn the pain of being stung. Or so much as be touched by winged bugs. You should see me at night time outdoor events- I look like I'm having a freaking seizure. (Just kidding, seizures are nothing to joke about, and it is very sad. Nagi has a friend who is an epileptic, and, yeah, anyway…) **

**Either way, one day I'll get that goddamn moth. For now, I must ward him off by smacking him with my pillow when he gets too close…**

**Spell check hates it when Larella twangs. Within the speech, there aren't any spelling errors, it's all deliberate. I'm trying to remember to incorporate the accents in a character's speech thanks to background and heritage, as we don't all talk like we just flew out of an English Grammar School. **

**GypsyWitchBaby: Actually, I'm the one who got bitchslapped, oddly enough. About a week ago I had a dream of Victor killing me 0.0 Don't know why (perhaps the Victor in my head was pissed that I took an indefinite hiatus the 2****nd**** chapter before he got some?) as the dream started with him ripping me a new one. The fact that I was being murdered wasn't even the scariest part XD The creepy part was it wasn't Creed from Origins, like in my story. It was the Victor Creed from the 90's TV series. (I seriously want to stab the people who designed Creed, and voiced Rouge, to death, in the neck and face, with a clicky pen.)**


	6. Cat and Mouse

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines (unless other wise stated that a plotline was inspired by something else)Part of this plotline is based off a show called Criminal Minds**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission **_**is**_** illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**1****st****: As I'm sure you've anxiously been waiting for it, (or maybe not, I don't really care either way) tis lemon time. It's the first I'll ever admit to writing, but it's a slight bit dark, and a tad bit bloody. If that is not you're thing, don't read the scene in the bedroom. But feel free to read the chase scene =D **

**2****nd****: Somebody else dies in this chapter, and it's a slight bit graphic (not too much, I don't think…) so, you've been warned if you're not a fan of when Victor kills something**

**3****rd****: Nothing really… just the usual lemme know what ya think.**

+Victor POV+

Victor was slightly concerned when she started coughing up blood- he had no idea how extensive her healing factor was, so a slit throat could be a problem. However, she slumped over, passed out. He didn't know for how long, and he didn't really care. At that moment, he decided that the Aaron prick was going to die a slow, painful death. The scent of her blood had awakened a frenzied craze to kill something.

Aaron could scream all he wanted- in this part of town, no one was going to come to the rescue- hell, and he'd be shocked if someone called the cops. That was the way these places were. Not that he was complaining- meant he'd get more play time. Tightening his grip on the young feral's throat, Victor watched as Aaron vainly struggled in a worthless attempt to get away. Slowly, one by one, he dug his nails, now extended, into the soft flesh that surrounded the boy's windpipe. He held him like that until just before gravity took over, and his throat ripped out. Withdrawing his nails, Aaron fell to the ground, coughing violent, blood running from the 5 puncture wounds, and trickling out the corner of his mouth. Victor waited, allowing a moment for Aaron to start begging- not surprisingly, the young feral started spurting off random crap. One thing managed to work its way through the red haze he was seeing;

"I wouldn't have done anything if I'd known she was your chick- I swear it." According to Aaron's heart-rate, and Victor's memory, the prick was lying. As punishment, Victor kicked him like a dog, hearing a few ribs crack. And he was almost positive there'd been a yelp, though he wasn't sure "Do you think I'm an idiot? The hell'd you think I was doin' when I fuckin' _cut_ 'er in front of you, and made 'er bleed? I couldn't 'ave the message clearer if I'd bent 'er over the damn bar and mounted 'er." Not a bad idea, though now was not the time for fantasies. Besides, what fucking feral doesn't know of blood-claiming? If a male makes his bitch bleed, and some other one comes sniffing around her skirts, shit was going to go down. That was an unmistakable challenge of authority, and that don't sit well with most guys. "And I'm paraphrasing, or whatever the fuck the word is, but I believe she made it very clear that although I'm not a boyfriend, brother, or a male relative, I have one hell of a say in what she's doing right now." He explained, like he was talking to a child. "And as if the 'fuck off' wasn't clear enough- you dumb as you look? Well, maybe not- obviously you're capable of breathin', though why I don't know." Victor'd fix that problem before he was done. Kicking again, Victor heard the sound of more cracking rib bones, along with a few of the ones from the first kick completely breaking. "If it wasn't fer the fact that you'll be dead when I'm done with you, I'd give you a little lesson about learning and staying in your place. Fuckin' pathetic." Victor spat.

"You act all big and bad around pieces of tail, but as soon as someone bigger steps up, you start whimperin' and whinin' like you've got your damn tail between your legs. You either _are_ a fuckin' alpha, dip shit, or you're not. And you're not, from the looks of things. Other wise you'd be fightin' back with everythin' you've got, regardless what your odds are. And ohh, no. It's too late for that. No redemption for you." He reached for the boy, hoisting him back up, only to throw him into the dead end part of the alley way, resounding in a scream. He dropped to the dumpster, rolling and landing on the pavement. The sound of random bones crunching and cracking were heard on all 3 impacts. Nothing but a whimper. Victor lost interest in his toys if they didn't do something exciting, like scream. And when he got bored, he dealt the killing blow ahead of the planned schedule. Not that they necessarily died immediately after he dealt the bow. Another kick. No response other than a whimper, accompanied by scent off piss and shit. He sighed, now officially bored. Once again, he lifted the young feral up, the action causing more than a whimper, but not enough for Victor to regain interest. He debated wither or not to start pulling out the feral's claws. Deciding against it, the next course of action was set in stone. With his other hand, he made a single downward swipe, his claws slicing through the skin and clothes like butter, while the entrails fell to the floor, a short sizzling noise resounding as the hot insides hit the cold floor. He wasn't dead yet- he'd have to bleed out first. A normal human could survive for hours, maybe even days with their intestines outside their body. However, the little prick also probably had internal bleeding, ruptured organs… not to mention the damaged bones.

As the red haze faded, he caught a scent that he hadn't been expecting in the slightest. At some point, Larella'd woken up, and had watched him play with and then kill the younger feral. And apparently she thought that shit was hot, because her scent was far more than spiced with arousal.

Either she was being lazy, exhausted, or hadn't been awake that long, because she as still on her side, shivering; the only change being that she'd adjusted her body so she was comfortably facing him.

He calmly walked towards her, fighting the urge to hold her against the wall and fuck her until she passed out. She struggled to get up, managing to get on her upper body upright, but couldn't seem to get her legs to obey. Grabbing her right forearm, he lifted her to her feet, turning her to face him. He let go, only to go to catch her when she stumbled. She looked up at him, taking a step forward, shivering once again before pressing up against him, nuzzling his chest. "It's freezing!" She whined in a childish voice. Rolling his eyes, he could still smell the blood from when the knife had cut her. Lifting her up, he pinned her to the wall. She squirmed a bit, but settled down when he growled irately.

+Larella POV+

Not entirely trusting his grip, she wrapped her legs around his waist, confused as to what was going on. She stiffened slightly when he'd sniffed her neck, licking at the bloody triangle that had formed. It took her a second to relax, allowing him to clean her up. He didn't even so much as look up at her to make sure she was okay with him cleaning the blood that had dripped down in between her breasts. Not that she was exactly surprised by that. In a weird way, it was soothing, calming her heart rate, which had still been racing, not sure if she'd have a fight on her hands or not.

His tongue move back up her neck, and the resulting sting told her that her wound hadn't entirely healed. She squirmed more, in discomfort, stopping only when she felt a… certain part of his anatomy pressed against her. He growled again, nipping her jawbone hard enough to make it hurt, one hand grabbing her hair at the base of her head, and pulling down, exposing her neck. She whined softly. Licking the wound until it healed, Larella'd completely relaxed against him. Victor shifted her, most likely re-assuring his grip, before lifting her off the wall, and carrying her to the truck.

The entire way back, she couldn't even look at him. No, it wasn't because that he'd killed Aaron right in front of her- if he hadn't, who knows what would have happened to her. (Sad as it was) But she was embarrassed that she couldn't control her own emotions. She knew he was able to smell it- she was lucky he hadn't jumped her already. When they got back, she'd get back in the shower, clean up, and force herself to forget that she'd gotten turned on watching Victor kill someone.

They couldn't have gotten to the house fast enough. She'd made sure to stay behind him, but in her haste to get to the bathroom, she'd gotten to close to him. Whatever had been keeping him from taking her then, it snapped.

She let out a shocked, frighten yelp when he snatched her up- before she could blink, he'd roughly dropped her one the kitchen island, and she just barely managed to keep her head from hitting one of the stove burners. She let out a pleading whine. Her skirt had ridden up slightly, which she tried to fix, but he stopped her, one hand on her throat, pushing until she complied to his wants, and lowered herself back down. He bent over her, sniffing, moving lower down her body. Another whine. "Please don't." She softly whimpered. He chuckled darkly.

"You don't smell like you want me ta stop, sweetheart." He teased, his hand slowly making its way up her skirt. Her hips bucked, but in a weak attempt to dislodge his hand. She whined again, and tried to pull away, but didn't get far, as his other hand grabbed her thigh, pulling her back to him. It slipped off her thigh, traveling up her body, cupping the back of her neck. She started to squirm again, stopping when he growled. He pulled her head to him, and she initially fought him, tried to get away, but he refused to let go of her. Her body officially taking over her mind, she whimpered, and then moaned at his kiss. His hand ran up and down her back, the sensation making her shiver. She loosely laced her arms around his neck. Parting her lips, she allowed him to enter her mouth. They fought for dominance, a playful growl at the back of her throat. Her breathing hitched when the hand on her thigh stroked her through her panties, making her jump in surprise. He chuckled darkly, ignoring her lusty whine long enough to remove her tank top, exposing the black lace bra underneath. He growled, nipping her neck while he dropped both hands to grab her waist, firmly pulling her to him, pushing her skirt up over her hips and rubbing his hardened member against her. He was rewarded with a lust filled moan, and a new wave of arousal hitting her. A hand slipped back up her leg, rubbing her. She moaned again, willingly spreading her legs wider. Her breathing increased, feeling a finger against her wet panties.

And then she had an idea. He pulled her tighter against him, demanding the attention of her mouth. When he pulled away, she knew it was time to go ahead and work her little plan.

"You still sure you want me to stop?" Victor asked seductively.

Larella whimpered a little; "No." she answered softly- He chuckled, thinking he'd won. Affectionately, he nipped her throat. "But," he looked up at her, "I've got one condition." Another laugh.

"And just what would that be?" He questioned. He made a mistake, and left an opening for her to escape. Jumping down, she fixed her skirt.

"Catch me if you can." She challenged, before taking off.

+Victor POV+

Before he could even realize what she'd set him up for, she was gone. For the second time, his mind had been hazy, though this time it'd been clouded with lust, rather than rage. At the sight of her running, his hunting instinct kicked in, demanding that he track her down, and catch her.

And he had almost followed that instinct, until he saw the thermostat. Little bitch wanted to play games, did she? He had a good one for her. Walking towards it, he adjusted the heat of the house. When it finished getting to the temperature he'd instructed, it would be a lot warmer _outside_ than it would be in the house. Over kill? Yes. Happy hunting. Waiting for the house to cool down, he stayed in the kitchen. Let the cold kick in, get her on edge. And of course, he'd let her get a head start. Oh, and she'd get cold. Running around in nothing but a bra, panties, a short skirt, and heels didn't exactly offer up much protection against the cold. Not to mention that with how hot and bothered he'd gotten her in that brief amount of time, her- well, she'd be one cold little girl in about 5 minutes. It wouldn't be a problem to track the lavender and vanilla scent. If she was good, he might just warm her up.

Looking down, he saw that he still had traces of the younger feral's blood on his hands. Hell, he had time to kill; might as well clean up.

+Larella POV+

She'd dashed up the giant staircase, making sure he wasn't following yet. Preparing to quickly explore, she zigzagged across the upper floor, not taking any chances in taking the time to remove her shoes, as she wasn't certain how much of a head start she was going to get. A shiver ran down her spine, in what she thought was anticipation. Naturally, with the size of the multi-million dollar house, there was a lot of upstairs to explore. Even with her staying away from the side of the house with the master suite on it, there was more than enough to entertain her. As she got further in the halls, she was certain that it was getting colder. The house didn't look old enough to be all that drafty… That son of a bitch. He'd probably turned the temperature down. A lot. It was just as cold now as it had been outside. Maybe colder. Once it hit below 70, it was all the same to her- too fucking cold. Wrapping her arms around herself, she continued to walk through the maze of hallways, slinking around corners to make sure Victor wasn't waiting for her on the other side.

Rain drops had slowly started falling down, picking up in pace. Lightning and thunder struck, spooking her whenever she was next to a window. It'd taken a lot of control not to yell in fright, as some of those thunder claps were _loud_, and with her heightened senses being put in overdrive to help her not get caught, they were especially frightening.

A small part of her knew it was a bad idea to be playing with the feral. It was dangerous to get tangled up with men. Him, especially. But this was the first time she'd ever felt so excited about the prospect of sex, and she wanted to know what the big deal was. Plus, this was fun- she felt like a fucking spy sneaking around.

When she was fairly certain she'd explored all there was to the other side of the house, she decided to get bold, and explore the side that the bedroom was on. Plus, it was cold. She wasn't sure she wanted to play anymore. She still avoided the hallway that lead to the bedroom. But, following a little passageway thingy, she ended up in the hallway anyway. Before she could leave, she saw something that caught her eye. It was rectangular and shiny and stuck to the wall. Thermostat.

Bingo. Suck on that, Victor. Doing a short little dance that involved her bouncing up and down a few times, she happily skipped over to it. She repressed a scream of horror when she saw the temperature; 30 degrees! Was he fucking insane? That was below freezing, wasn't it? If it wasn't for her healing factor made her more resistant against the cold (not that she liked it any better), she'd of probably gotten frostbite by now. Maybe. She didn't know what the requirements for frostbite where, but for as long as she'd been running around, no thank you. She was about to reset the temperature, when she heard a voice;

"Are ya cold yet, sweetheart? It sure is chilly out here. How about you let me warm ya up?" She froze up, panicking. She wasn't ready to throw in the towel yet. And she couldn't tell which direction his voice was coming from. Frantically bumping the number up, she hit the hold temperature button before randomly deciding a direction to go in. Looks like she chose correctly, as she was not greeted with a mass of muscle. She didn't see him follow after her, fixing the thermostat to an even lower temperature than he'd set it the first time with a cruel smile, before heading in the direction she'd gone.

She dashed to the other side of the house, randomly making loops and circles to make him think she'd gone back to the side that the bedroom was on. She knew he was hot on her heels, though, and made a mad dash for some kind of safety net. He'd figure out she was running in circles eventually. Running down a hallway, she could almost hear him above the pounding rain and thunder. A strike of lighting flashed right when she was in front of a window, shocking her system momentarily. Stumbling, she made her way to a dead end. Well, not completely. There where about 5 rooms, one on the end of the hallway, and 2 on either side. She couldn't risk going back- he'd probably see her.

"Come out; come out, wherever you are." He called out.

Taking one of the rooms on the left, she checked it- locked. The next one wasn't. Closing and locking it, she made her way into the room. The flashing lightning had killed her night vision, and it took her a second to get it back. There was a nice wood desk, leather, high-backed chair behind it. An oriental rug, with a wide black couch, facing the desk. A door seemed to lead to the room that had been locked. The curtains were drawn, the space of carpet beneath it flashing a white-green color when lightning cracked. She shivered violently. Using her hair as some odd cloak type thing, it helped ward off the cold a little, though only with her upper body. Moving toward the window, she opened the curtains right when a flash of lighting struck again. She shrieked when she saw Victor behind her, in the window's reflection. She immediately ran towards the door, hearing him snarl in annoyance at having temporarily lost his sight, and his quarry. She didn't waste time, tripping her way to the door, and thankfully it wasn't locked. She opened it, slipped inside, and locked the door. The locked room seemed to be a bedroom. Realizing that if she couldn't get out, that she'd just made a huge mistake, she skittered over to the locked door- thankfully it was just like the others. Just twist one direction or the other, and it locked or unlocked. She heard Victor fiddle with the door, checking if she'd locked it. Hurriedly, she unlocked the door that lead out to the hallway, making sure to close it before running.

The enraged bellow shocked her sideways when he discovered she wasn't trapped in the room like he might have initially thought. She hightailed it to the other side of the house, deciding now might be a good time to let him catch her. Besides, she was starting to get tired. Dropping to a walk, then stopping, she leaned against the wall, trying to catch her breath.

"Gotcha."

Frightened by the unexpected sound of his voice, Larella jumped, only for Victor to scoop her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She pouted, trying, but failing, to keep herself relatively upright. But, maybe not. "Dimmit" she bitched once, then became relatively silent. It was really high up here… She started to panic, afraid she was going to fall. She yelped when she felt his hand smack her backside, for the second time today. "Calm down." He commanded. She glared at him, but complied- at the very least, he was warm. And it was still really cold inside the house. She tensed whenever lightening flashed, though forced herself to calm down for fear of Victor's hand hitting her again. She fell with a startled yep when he dropped her on the bed- at some point during their game, he'd started a fire, which she didn't mind a bit. She snuggled up to a fur while he stalked her, circling the bed, but she didn't really care at the moment about except any raising her body temperature back up.

He snarled curtly, wanting her focus to be him. She looked up at him right when he grabbed her ankle, dragging her to him on her back. She gasped, at first grabbing for some sort of purchase, before giving up on the notion. The look he gave her a look that made her panties wetter than they already were. All the silent promises of what he was going to do to her. Even if they most likely would end up being a bust. He growled, crawling on top of her, continuing to hold her leg up. Capturing her mouth with his, he forced it open, exploring it with his tongue. She moaned, submitting to him. Still holding her ankle, his other hand slipped underneath her, hoisting her up. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her free leg around his waist. He released her leg, but kept it on the outside of his arm, so she had to keep it up herself, unable to wrap it around his waist. He pushed her skirt up again, one hand clawing at her backside, ripping her bra's clasp, and doing a good amount of damage to her skirt, not the mention the skin his claws came in contact with. Those healed over shortly after they were given. Releasing her mouth, he readjusted his grip again, making sure he had a good hold on her. She tucked her head underneath his, whining softly at the lost contact, though hissed in irritation when he ripped her bra and skirt, then dropped her on the bed in just her lace panties and heels. Victor laughed when Larella shot him an annoyed look.

"Well that's just not fair." She pointed out.

He laughed darkly. "What's not fair?" He asked, mocking her.

A growl. "I'm nearly naked, and you're still dressed." He laughed at that, removing his coat. He crawled back on top of her, his huge frame dwarfing her own, allowing the tiny female to remove his shirt. He couldn't help the cocky ass grin when she marveled at his chest. One leg snaked its way back around his waist as he kissed her again, roughly, growling in pleasure when she moaned. Pulling back, he held her down when she attempted to follow him. He lowered his head to her chest, licking and nipping the skin in between her breasts. Seemed that unlike a lot of women in this day in age, she hadn't gotten implants. Good. That fake shit bothered him to no end. Turning his attention to her right breast, he latched onto it, holding the hardened nipple with his blunt front teeth, flicking his tongue over it. He growled possessively when he heard her pleased moan. He released the nipple, only to lick it repeatedly. Her leg tightened around his waist, her back trying to arch as she moaned. Keeping the one hand on her shoulder, he forced her to stay down, his other hand grabbing her hips, holding her to him. He switched to her left, giving it as much attention as he had the right one. He resisted a chuckle when she struggled to arch her back in pleasure. He extended his claws on her hip, digging into her soft flesh, blood beading around his claws. He was surprised by the chocked cry of pleasure. A whine escaped her throat when he dragged his claws down her hips again, the moderately shallow wounds healing shortly after they were made. The lace weakened and frayed after this, giving easily when he pulled at it. Larella whimpered, squirming underneath him for a second, stopping on her own accord. He smirked at her pleased gasp when he lowered his head in between her legs, and made one slow lick. She spread her legs as far as she could, moaning as the hand on her shoulder moved down to her left breast, teasing the nipple. Victor made a growl that clearly commanded 'look at me', which she obeyed, lifting her torso, her breathing hitching as she watched. He clawed her hips again, smearing the blood that welled up. She screamed, bucking her hips, when he inserted his tongue inside her, withdrawing it for a second, only to return it.

Oh God, it felt so good. Another helpless cry as he pleasured her. He kept her like that for who knows how long, also using the pad of a finger, careful with his claws. Holding her down at her waist, Victor delighted in hearing her pleased cries each time he touched her. He had waited until she started begging to finish her off, licking her clean afterwards.

He got up; about to undo his pants, which felt excruciatingly tight at the moment, when Larella started to beat him to it. He grabbed her by her hair, twisting sharply. "The hell you think you're doin'?" He questioned.

She whined in discomfort; "I was gonna return the favor, but apparently ya've got other ideas." He barked a laugh. "Maybe next time- only thing I'm int'rested in right now is your pussy. I'm goin' ta let go, and you're goin' ta turn around and get on your hands and knees, am I clear?" She tried to nod, but unable to due to his tight grip on her head. He let go of her, and she obeyed, turning around and getting on all fours, completely exposed to him. He undressed quickly, removing his pants, boxers, socks and shoes. Growling possessively, he got behind her- she flinched when he touched her, but only because it had coincidently matched up with the strike of thunder and lightning. A firm grasp on her waist settled her down, as he lined himself up to her before sliding himself inside her, meeting no resistance. A surprised gasp escaped her throat, followed by a lusty moan. Victor couldn't help the rush of primal male pride at her reaction- poor girl had no idea what she was in for. All he'd done was enter her. Dropping onto his hands as well, he created a sort of wall around her, keeping her in one place.

Larella couldn't help the urge that seemed to drive all females- to make the male earn it if he wanted her on her knees. She flipped over on her back, and thankfully he didn't come with her. Hissing, her smaller hands grabbing his arms, the nails biting into his flesh. He snarled at her, earning a smirk. Hunkering over her, his teeth closed over her throat, easily puncturing the thin flap of skin protecting her esophagus. Another hiss, this one angry, she barred her fangs, but unable to get her teeth into anything without ripping out her own throat. They stayed like that for a few moments, struggling for dominance, even though they both know who would win. He removed his head, only long enough to roughly throw her back into her place, his claws not making any effort to lessen the damage as he pulled and pushed her around. She stayed in place as he mounted her again, dragging one hand from her hip to her shoulder to keep her still. He entered her again, growling possessively.

He drew his claws down her back, blood emerging from the wounds before her factor healed them. He thrusted once, nipping her neck when she cried out.

"You like that, sweetheart? Does that feel good?" He asked, knowing the answer. She responded by pushing back on him, trying to get him to thrust into her. He spanked her, earning a cry. "Uh-uh, sweetheart, I'm the one in charge- if you want something, your just gonna have to beg for it." He'd probably give it to her, too.

He'd known she'd probably be no virgin, but he hadn't expected her to be so tight. It hard to so much as focus.

"Pl-please… Please, Victor." She begged gently. He ran his claws down her back again, smearing the blood. She shivered violently.

"Please what, Larella? You've got ta be specific." He said cruelly, enjoying the power he held over her. She whined, frustrated, tightening around him involuntarily. He groaned at the sensation, fighting the urge to savagely take her, until she asked for it.

"Please Victor!" She cried, and then spoke again, her voice softer; "Please fuck me… please."

He growled lowly, nipping the back of her neck. "All ya had ta do was ask." He grasped her hips, using one hand to spread her legs further, before plunging inside her. She pressed up against him, moaning erotically. He moved her hair out of the way, biting the base of her neck, his claws digging into her hips as he anchored himself to her, not caring if he made her bleed. One hand slipped up her torso, pinching a nipple, and getting a sharp cry of pleasure as the response. Growling, he held her down while she tried to buck and thrash about, binding a strong arm around her waist, and holding her to him. The scent of her blood and her moans excited him, driving him to get as deep inside her as he could, as fast as he could. She writhed in pleasure, trying to match him, though it was difficult to do the position they were in. He snarled when she tightened around him, bucking inside her brutally. He repetitively cut her in random places, covering her in a thin layer of her own blood. She didn't seem to mind, (he wouldn't have cared if she had, anyway.) and seemed to enjoy it, ultimately. Her breathing was short and quick, her heart racing in her chest- she could almost hear it over the sound of pounding rain, and Victor's domineering growls.

"Ohh… please… Oh please, Victor-" she started, not even sure what she wanted; all she knew was that she wanted more. "Please, more!" she instantly moaned in gratification when he met her needs. She was so focused on him that she wasn't even capable of noticing the intense thunderstorm that raged outside anymore. The little bubble of pleasure in Larella's abdomen grew with each time he brought her hips against him. He drove into her, using enough force to knock her arms out from under her. She tried to get up, but Victor held her down with a hand on her shoulder, taking advantage of the new angle he was presented with. And from the sounds of it, she was enjoying it as well. She was close to cumming- he could smell it, and feel it in the contractions of her tight little pussy. Just a few more strokes and- he was rewarded with a scream of ecstasy, along with the tightening of her walls around him, milking him for all he was worth. She moaned, exhaustion in her voice. Her long hair stuck to both of them, and she pulled it to her side.

The rain had died slowly, the lightning and thunder less frequent, until the storm had completely passed.

He held onto her, giving her a few moments to rest, before pulling out and rolling her on her back, only to enter her again. Faster, more, harder, rougher- whatever she asked for, he gave it to her. Each time he pulled her to him seemed to make it more and more permanent in his mind that he owned her. He held her down and claimed her ruthlessly, clawing at her, marking her, making her bleed, until she screamed her climax, followed shortly by him roaring out his own.

Sitting up, Victor pulled a whimpering, shaking Larella up with him, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder, curled up in his lap. For a second she'd been worried he was going to try for a round 3, (Which she did not have the energy for) but after enough time had passed, she figured out that was not the case. She shivered both in exhaustion and pleasure as Victor lightly drew patterns on her back. Her skin seemed far more receptive to touch at the moment, and it didn't help that she wasn't used to someone's hands roaming over her body at they pleased. She nuzzled his chest, and got a soothing rumble from Victor in response. Happening to look over his shoulder, and out a window, she saw the sun just barely starting to poke its head over the horizon. He'd kept her up all night- thank God she didn't have anywhere to go tomorrow… later today… what the fuck ever. She closed her eyes, and attempted to fall asleep, but was brought back from her almost-dreamland by a sharp nip. She scowled, snarling at Victor, thinking he was going to go ahead and try for round 3.

She now understood what all the fuss was about, but there was no way in hell she was having sex with him again tonight.

"No!" She bitched sleepily, weakly hitting his shoulder. "No more, dammit, until I get to sleep." He chuckled, and then resumed the gentle rumbling noise. Not that she'd ever say it to his face, but it sounded a lot like a purring noise. She giggled sleepily at the thought of Victor purring in someone's lap like a tame housecat, ignoring the odd look he gave her. "Can you go fix tha fire?" she asked, yawning. "It's gonna get cold." She could sense the eye roll, but either way, he set her down, getting up to revive the dying flames. Finished with that, he went out of the room, presumably to fix the thermostat. When he returned, she was curled up on the warmest part of the bed, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she was covered in a layer of her own blood. He picked her back up, leaning against the headboard. She woke up, her peace disturbed, though not enough to make any conferment of annoyance. She just snuggled up against him, and fell back asleep to the feel of his tongue licking off the blood that had settled on her.

+Victor POV+

He cleaned off the blood, knowing that if he didn't, it'd dry, and itch like a motherfucker for Larella. It was just easier to deal with now, before she started scratching. Settling her next to him, she laid there contentedly, sleeping off her exhaustion. She was fucking his now- the only way she was going to get out of this was if he killed her. No, he didn't 'love' her, as 1.) He'd only known the bitch 3 days, and 2.) That 'love' shit was for the birds. Creed only knew of dominance and ownership. He'd take care of her; protect her, whatever he'd have to do to keep her. But he wasn't going to run around throwing the 'L' word all over the place. Besides, he liked that she was vocal in bed. A little more training, and she'd be an amazing fuck. Unconsciously running a clawed hand up and down her spine, he settled himself down, falling to sleep.

When he'd woken up, it'd been well into the afternoon. She didn't have anything planned today, and he didn't have anywhere to be, so it wasn't that big a deal.

Victor randomly remembered her saying that she was part Russian. She didn't look it though- she appeared pre-dominantly Irish, with some sort of Native American, from her high cheek bones. There had also been 2 scars that he'd noticed last night- on her left hip, the other on her upper lip, probably from stitches; he'd figure out how she'd gotten them later. He looked down when he heard her sigh softly. Larella stirred for a second, looking up at him sleepily with blue eyes. Her head was on his chest, her body tucked in next to him, his arm around her. One hand rested on his chest. She yawned slightly, before falling asleep again. Victor rolled his eyes, but stroked her hair.

+Larella POV+

When she woke up, she felt very warm, and very safe. She slowly came to, the events from hours before working their way to the front of her mind.

Oh, dear sweet mother of Jesus- did she do the nasty with Victor Creed? Oh, she did.

Instead of panicking about the usual things- pregnancies, STD's- she was more worried about how he was going to react. Was he awake? Should she look?

Then again, she didn't have to worry about either getting pregnant or an STD- She wasn't in estrus, so no babies for her right now, and both her and Victor's bodies instantly killed anything that their white cells so much as thought didn't belong there. Something she'd learned the hard way though- the healing factor gets kicked when you're knocked up.

"I know you're awake." Victor's rumbling baritone voice shocked the hell out of her, making her jump.

"I'm still sleepy." She protested- in reality she wasn't, thanks to him, but if she was quick, she might be able to trick herself into thinking she still was. Right then, her phone rang, an odd, male voice singing about how he was about to whip somebody's ass. It was a Foamy the squirrel ring tone, of course- he was her lord and master. Her phone had magically made its way to the nightstand on the side of the bed Larella would have been sleeping on, if she hadn't been next to Victor. Rolling over and reaching for it, she answered it.

"Hello Maryse." Her voice still held traces of sleepiness.

"_Holy _sh-it._"_

"What?" Larella asked, concerned.

"_Somebody got _nailed_ last night!"_ The blond responded. Larella was too shocked to think of a witty response. Victor raised an eyebrow, having heard the last part.

"The hells are you talkin' about?" she seemed slightly phased, completely off guard by the exclamation

"_You. Got some nookie. SO? Who was it? That guy at the bar? Aaron or whatever? Your bodyguard? Lorcan? Oh, I got it- you cradle robbing hoe, it was Brent! It was Brent, wasn't it? I knew it!"_ Larella held the phone away as Maryse rambled about knowing how she and Brent 'couldn't fight it' or whatever.

"No, you stupid skank, it wasn't Brent, dear god. I-" She slapped herself on the forehead. She should have just denied having fucked all together- now she was about to get screwed over.

"_A-Ha! I was right! You don't deny having got chu some! Seriously, who was it? I want to know."_ No way in hell she was telling Maryse- she'd want a detailed description; she wouldn't do that with Victor out of _earshot_, never mind with him less than 3 feet away.

"No. What did you call me for?" Bring her back on topic.

"_Oh, right- Go check your e-mail. I sent you a funny video of a dog vs. a car"_

Larella sighed. Only Maryse would call her to tell her to go check her e-mail about a YouTube video. "You're a fucking prophet, Maryse." She snapped irritably, referring to the alibi Maryse had given Linda, and then hung up, not giving the blond a chance to respond.

Setting the phone back on the nightstand, she shook her head, lying back down. Victor dragged her to him, so she was in the same position she'd been in when she'd woken up. Larella dosed lazily for a while, even though it was past the time to get up. Victor seemed to be the type that once they were up, they were up until they where ready to go back to sleep. Eventually they decided to get up, but she refused to leave the bed. Even though he'd turned the temperature up last night, it was still cold, and her clothes were downstairs, or torn to hell in the room. Her shoes lay dejectedly in a corner, and for a second she wondered how the hell they'd gotten there in the first place. He'd put on a pair of boxers and pants, tossing her a dark brown long-sleeved shirt. It was like a dress on her, falling halfway to her knees. The sleeves where ridiculously long for her smaller frame. It took forever to get them rolled up. The shirt smelt like him- musky, earthy, like the trees in the back.

He lead the way downstairs, and she grabbed her laptop, placing it on the counter, and turning it on before fishing for a pan. "You hungry?" A rumble that signified 'yes'. "How many eggs?" If he was anything like her male relatives, it would be a lot. Not that that was a problem- she was used to cooking for her brother and father, who both where feral. Well, her mom too, but she didn't have as large an appetite as they did.

"5." The number didn't even faze her- she was used to it. Had to eat a lot to maintain the healing factor. Or at least, that was the catch in her family- she didn't know about other families, or rather, other people. Hers seemed to be the only one where the feral mutation was a genetic trait. Otherwise, the ferals seemed to just randomly appear out of nowhere. Taking the hairtie on her wrist, she pulled her hair back in a ponytail, brushing her long bangs out of her face. She grabbed the number of eggs, plus two for her.

"Any certain way ya want 'em done?" she inquired.

"Over easy." His tone when he said it was what set her off. Both hands hit the counter top, and she turned to glare at him. He sat there on the other side of the breakfast bar, his fingers laced together underneath his head, a Cheshire grin on his face.

"Is that suppose to _mean_ somethin', Victor?" Larella challenged.

His expression was that of mock confusion. "Oh, you meant my _eggs_? Scrambled."

She scowled, annoyed, but cracked and cooked his eggs, before making hers. Grabbing a glass and filling it half way with water, she snatched a fork, than logged into her account. It took a few seconds for her to go into her e-mail. Ignoring the other e-mails, she clicked the link to Maryse's video.

It was made from an average camera, no amazing quality. A stray dog is in front of a car on a street, and doesn't move. The car honked, trying to spook the dog and his little posse and the dog attacked the car, pulling off the license plate and dropping it. Larella chocked on the water, laughing. Hitting a button, the screen paused, until she stopped coughing. Still giggling, she re-started the video. It was stupid, and relatively pointless. But that was why it was funny. The guy driving the car had to get out and pick it up, and as he drove away, another dog chased him, snapping at the fenders.

Giggling at the sheer stupidity of it, she deleted the e-mail, and then proceeded to go through the spam mail, deleting it. A couple pictures of her nieces, Annalesia and Mikala.

Sheesh, there was a lot of spam. She didn't check her mail for 4 days, and the shit hits the fan in her inbox. Check, check, check, check, check, waiitt…

Okay, this was probably some sort of scam. It just had her name in the title. As soon as she clicked it, it'd probably freeze up her entire computer. Well, she could always have her brother fix it. Or maybe her cousin, the one who worked for NASA. If he was learning to play with super computers, surely he could get rid of a virus. As bad an idea as she knew it was, she clicked the link to take her to the e-mail.

She stared in shock at the screen, her glass slipping from her fingers, ice water and glass going everywhere around her feet, but she didn't seem to notice. All she could do was stare at the screen, true, very real horror slowly crawling up on her.

**So, thoughts, comments, suggestions? If you want, take a swing at what you think is in the e-mail via review. The one closest to it, if they don't hit the mark, will get kudos next chapter.**

**And I still have yet to kill that damn moth… he sits there on my ceiling, slowly taunting me, closing and expanding his wings, threatening to fly towards my computer… and then I raise my pillow up like a shield, and he backs down, knowing what fate will come to him if he flies over here. He must have a hobby during the day, as I don't see him then… and I'm in an effin' storage room in a basement, so I have no idea how he has a sense of time, but he does.**


	7. Yellow Butterfly

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines (unless other wise stated that a plotline was inspired by something else) Part of this plotline is based off a show called Criminal Minds**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission **_**is**_** illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**1****st****: Has Sera22 spontaneously died? Nagi misses her reviews. (assuming that Sera22 is a girl… you never really know online (cough))**

**2nd: I freaking hate thinking of names for characters, as I either have a relative who has that name, or I effin' hate somebody with that name. Oi.**

**As always, pardon any OC-ness, and grammatical errors that may occur, as I didn't catch it, it's because my Microsoft didn't.**

Larella was vaguely aware that Victor was giving her an odd look, before getting up to see what she was so freaked about- if she would have been able to think, she would have been sure her scent was absolutely covered in fear. She snapped out of it when she heard him snarl savagely. Shaking her head to help clear it, she carefully stepped out of the puddle of water and glass, cursing. Victor picked up the laptop, carrying it away from the counter, and placing it on the island. Larella grabbed a broom, cleaning up the glass before mopping up the water with a rag, trying to ignore the sound of Victor clicking the 'down' button, which meant there were more pictures. She didn't want to know- but what now, if the person who'd sent the e-mail knew where they were? That was not good. Larella closed her eyes, trying to control her breathing, and keep from hyperventilating. Last thing she needed to was to faint- again.

+Victor POV+

The email had nothing but pictures, from what he first saw- half of them were of Larella riding the brown mare with the crème mane and tail, the other half of her working the bar. The last one was of Victor cleaning Larella's wounds before carrying her to the truck.

How the hell did the fucker get the pictures? Maybe the bar, he could see happening, as a lot of people where taking pictures of their 'good time' with their friends. So no one would of noticed someone taking pictures if they where smart enough in choosing their angle. How the fuck they'd gotten the other pictures, he had no clue. Even though he'd been asleep after she'd worked the stallion, he hadn't been dead to the world- he woke up each time someone so much as opened a car door, none the less pulled in or out. So how the hell…?

"Give me that phone." He commanded, pointed in the general direction of the cordless phone, which Larella got for him, confused and curious. He dialed a number. It rang twice.

"_This is the office of Epic Awesomeness, speak and be recognized, mortal."_ A male voice spoke.

"It's Creed, jackass."

"_..Oh. Sorry. Anyway, what can I do for you?"_ The male voice asked.

"Need you to figure out the original address of an e-mail."

"_Okay, I'll need the IP address of the computer you have it on so I can get into the system and track it. And could you save me some trouble and just log into the damn account."_

"It's already logged in, Devlyn." He answered, as Larella hit a few buttons, and a pop up with her IP came up. He recited the numbers back to Devlyn, who then took control over Larella's computer.

"_Alright, give me a few seconds and…"_ The pair watched as a new window popped up, numbers ripping down the screen. The sound of fingers striking their keyboard could be heard on the other end. A pause, and another strike. _"Bingo. The e-mail originated from one… Shevana Shepard."_ Larella and Victor looked at each other when Devlyn said the last name.

"Devlyn. Pull that bitch's file, and if she married to a man named Steven, pull his as well. I want to know if they fuckin' pissed the bed when they were 6, understood? Everythin', don't leave anything' unchecked, if you have to hack your way into the damn Pentagon. Right now, nothing is unimportant." His voice left no room for any disobedience.

"_Yes, Sir. I am pulling now. And by the way, I'm gonna guess you're stalker knows you, from the little message she left."_

"What fuckin' message?" Victor asked, re-scrolling through the e-mail. He'd been so distracted by the pictures, that he'd missed the small message at the very bottom.

_You may not remember me, but I remember you- Karma's a bitch, and you'll get yours._

What the hell? What kinda shit would Larella be in? And what kinda message was that? He had to get to the bottom of this.

"You know her or some shit?" He asked Larella, who seemed to be trying to remember something.

"I've heard the name before- Shevana, not the Shepard part… I can't remember where though. Of course, it might not even be the same one."

"_Holy shit."_ Devlyn's voice came out through the phone.

"What?"

"_Your girl whose IP address you gave me? She's a Zurtus- whoever the hell sent that e-mail must be either psychotic, or know what their doing. You don't fuck with the biggest clan of ferals in the continental U.S. unless you've got a major bone to pick. They're an old and obviously powerful family, both physically and status-wise. She's also the eldest female directly related to the Matriarch."_

"All hail Aunt Regina, queen of tha Zurtus." Larella said, a small smile playing on her face. Apparently there was a hierarchy, and her aunt reigned supreme.

"What does he mean by directly?" Victor questioned.

"Ma family makes boy babies, for some odd reason. Ma aunt and father are obviously siblings, and tha only two kids my grandparents had, who lived long enough to have their own babies. Ma aunt's got 5 boys, ma dad has 4, plus me. All the other women, except for the younger ones and me obviously, have married into the family. Of course then there is ma 20 nieces, nephews, and 2nd cousins. And their kids as well… A good portion of them are older then me, and have their own kids."

God damn, her family got busy. He was no math matition, but that was a lot of fucking kids. She didn't have any, he knew that from when he'd done his research into her direct relatives- father, mother, brothers, nieces and nephews all the way down to the great-great grand niece born 6 months ago. If she did have a kid, it wasn't acknowledged anywhere, or in any record.

"So what, are you next in line or something?" He taunted.

"Or something. Of course, she's got to die first- and she's not going anywhere anytime soon."

Maybe this might coincidently be timed with some drama within the family.

"Any possibility this is family stuff- and they just happened to choose to go after you since you've wandered from the family?"

"_Not that it's my place to answer, but I'd say no- the message is too personal, the way it's written- It's just about her. There's no mention of family or anything."_

Creed was about to say something along the lines of 'who the hell asked you?' when Larella spoke;

"Ah gotta agree with him- we tend to deal with issues en house, and make sure stuff doesn't get out of hand."

"_Yeah, anyway, I can hear you two. And I've got most of Shevana's file here- As you guessed, Victor, she'd married to some guy name Steven- I'm pulling his stuff now, but here's hers- 40, white female, married, 3 kids. Raised in a single parent home, father walked out for a hooker, and from her finances, it appears she stripped her way through college. Also seems like she went to the same college as our Zurtus in question. "_

"The Zurtus has a name, and its Larella, thank you." She snapped.

"_Sorry. Anyway, maybe some college drama that got blown out of proportion?"_

Victor rolled his eyes. "I highly doubt somebody would order a hit after 20 years because someone spread a nasty rumor, or slept with someone's boyfriend-"

"Oh shit!" Larella exclaimed with wide eyes. She immediately had Victor's undivided attention.

"She ordered a hit because you slept with her boyfriend?" He asked incredulously. He hadn't been serious when he'd said it, but it looked like he'd really hit a nerve there.

"Actually, she slept with mine. Oh shit, shit, shit! Even when the bastard's dead he won't leave me the hell alone!" She cried, getting more hysterical as she got closer to the end of the sentence. She dashed off, and he could smell the salt water pouring down her face.

"_I don't hear you chasing after her- obviously there's your ticket. But something else had to trigger the urge to want Larella dead. You don't go 20 years and then want someone dead when you were the one who slept with their boyfriend. Obviously something else happened. Hang on… There's a newspaper article. Well, what do you know? Says here, that Larella got into a really bad car accident…Drunk driver, they had a thing about drinking and driving in there as well… And her boyfriend, Brandon Stanfeild, committed suicide the day after she was released and went back to school. That's not good. I'll pull the medical file…"_

No, Victor wasn't going to chase after her- he had no ability whatever in the ways of consoling distressed women- that'd always been Jimmy's thing. If anything, he'd make her more distressed. And it was clear her boyfriend's suicide wasn't what made her so upset. What the hell happened? Either way, it would be better to just leave her alone.

"_I think I've just struck gold on why she flipped when you made the boyfriend comment."_

"And why is that?"

"_When Larella was admitted, she was checked yes for being pregnant, roughly two and a half months- when she left, she was checked no."_

She lost a baby. That might explain a couple things.

"_Says here though that although she was pregnant when admitted, the baby was dead when they checked it out. Might be from the crash, might be that her body couldn't handle the stress of multiple surgeries to save her life, and maintain a baby at the same time, so it aborted the pregnancy of its own accord."_

_Multiple surgeries?_ She shouldn't have needed _a _surgery. Her healing factor should have taken care of that-

"_Um, first few went off without a hitch, however, a few days after the baby was aborted, or killed as the case may be, they claim to have to transfer her to another hospital due to the family's request, as she was incapable of making decisions at said time. But, there is no transfer anywhere in sight. Although there is a mighty large donation in the name of one Regina Zurtus around the same time. My money is on Matriarch Zurtus coming to the rescue when they notified next of kin, and they realized the clan had a serious problem. Her hip had been shattered, though when they x-rayed her after a couple more days, the hip was completely healed, though with slight nerve damage to her left leg. Doctors claim to have gotten the X-rays mixed up, and she had nothing more than a slight fracture they'd wanted to keep an eye on._

Explained the limp, and where she'd gotten one of her scars.

"_Yeah, Matriarch Zurtus didn't allow anyone other than family to visit as soon as the doctors cleared her to be allowed visitors. No boyfriend, no friends, no nothing."_

"And then she went back to school."

"_Yup. And the boyfriend killed himself, and that is all she wrote."_

"But _why?_ Most guys don't kill themselves after their girl's been released from the hospital, and lost their baby because of a drunk driver."

"_Maybe there was a fight- who knows. Maybe Larella caught him doing the nasty with the Shevana lady, got pissed, and drove off?"_

"And was going to tell him the joyous news." Victor concluded. The guy goes to beg her forgiveness… and then what? She said no? Obviously he didn't care that much about her- he was willing to cheat.

But 20 years was a long time to wait for revenge if you thought the girlfriend caused your lover's suicide. For once, Devlyn had used his brains, and was on to something- there had to be a secondary trigger to make Shevana choose now to get it.

He sighed, not liking the idea of dealing with Larella while she was still as hysterical as she was. He'd heard somewhere that a woman never got over the loss of a child. They'd blame themselves for years, and it'd tear them apart, piece by piece. She hadn't seemed like she was being destroyed from the inside out. This was the first indication he'd had of it.

But if she didn't blame herself, then she wouldn't be torn with guilt. And if she blamed the Brandon guy enough…

Well, it'd be no problem for her to stage suicide. He'd done it many a time at a client's request. And if anyone suspected foul play, there was probably Auntie Riri with her team of lawyers to help shift the blame back to suicide. Surely the head bitch had thought of all this when she realized how big her family was growing, and how quickly. Undoubtedly a lot of those kids had feral mutations. Her brothers, nieces, and nephews did. Her mom, and in-laws weren't feral, but had a healing factor to some degree. And if that feral genetic bloodline spread far enough down Auntie Riri's line, then there was the possibility it would hit a bad egg, which she had to be prepared for.

"_And we've got Steven Shepard- only child, nice, wealthy family, well respected in the vicinity that he lived in. When he turned 18, his father gave him one of the family companies, which was in… something I can't pronounce, but looks like it has to do with electronics. Married Shevana 12 years ago, their oldest kid is 13 though, so there's that for you. He recently withdrew a large sum of money to one Colby Rodgers about 4 days ago. But he was on a trip in Japan at the time. Want to guess that the money was used to hire an assassin? It looks like that was only half the sum though, but the other half never got paid. And that would be because… what do you know, he's dead. Found two days go in an abandoned warehouse, with sadistic torture marks, though C.O.D was the jugular vein being punctured. Hum, that doesn't look familiar."_ Devlyn joked.

"Only doin' what I'm paid to." Creed said, though that wasn't the complete truth- he hadn't been paid to bend her over, and he certainly planned on doing a bit more of that as soon as she calmed the hell down.

"_Whoa, Matriarch Zurtus is good."_

"Actually, she's not the one who booked me- Ever heard of Daemon Loveria?"

"_He was the one who booked you? Well, what do you know. So… wait…"_ The sound of rapid typing. _"Shepard and Loveria were at the same benefit a few weeks ago. Shepard was with his wife, but guess who was with Loveria?"_

"Not one of his hoes." Victor guessed randomly.

"_And we have a winner! Yeah, looks like he took Larella with him. He's not known for ever having the same date, though she and some blond lady who I'd really like to-"_

"Name is Maryse- and I don't give a damn what you'd like to do to her, get on with it."

"_Right, so they're the only two who have been seen more than once with him. So I'm gonna guess that Larella hasn't aged much, probably looks roughly the same as when she was in college. Shevana has aged 20 years, and if Larella didn't get a good look at her when she, ya know"_

"Assuming that's what happened." Victor reined Devlyn back. If there was one thing he'd learned, was not to count chickens before they hatched. But normally he was really good at guessing.

"_Right, well, anyway, so Larella'd never notice her as the lover of her now-dead ex boyfriend. But-"_

"Shevana would recognize her." Victor finished.

"_Oh my… what is this little tid-bit?"_

"What's what little tid-bit? Something you haven't told me?"

"_No. There appears to be that Shevana doesn't take relationships very seriously. That might possibly be because of her father's infidelity- and I'm sure her mother told her never to be financially dependent on a man, and not to trust one either. Anyway, it appears she's taken up hooking."_

"Hooking?"

"_Yeah, you know, the art of being a hooker. And not just you're random shifter-whore type that you pick up off the street. These are big dogs she's tying down. I'm checking their finances now, and it looks like there's 10- 3 have weekly visits, from the looks of things, but the other 7 have random checks being paid to one Audrey Driver. Until about a month ago, when they transferred over to Shevana. M y guess is that Audrey was one of the high-end call girls, and retired, and then sold her list to Shevana."_

-Downtown- +Unknown General POV+

An older man of average height, his hair grey and balding, sat in front of a TV, reviewing a security camera with a tall, lankier man, of about mid- to late-20's.

"We've been over the video how many times?" The older one asked.

"32 times." the younger one answered immediately.

"And we still can't figure this out… Jesus, is it Serial Killer week or something, Mike, and we missed the memo?"

"Actually, Jason, the chances of two unrelated serial killers being active in the same city is so low, it's almost negative." Mike answered.

"So we've hit the negatives? We have the male on video camera- and I'm going to assume that he's not the one killing the CEO's, as he doesn't look like the type to be gay. Or be able to wink his way into a CEO's pants, only to poison them. He'd of clawed them up like these two."

"I don't think so… Maybe… what if this one isn't a serial kill?" Mike suggested. Jason looked at him incredulously.

"And what makes you think that?"

"Well, although it matches the basic way that Colby Rodgers was killed, minus the actual death blows, maybe the first one was an intentional kill, and this was just… I don't know. This doesn't seem planned out like the first one- the MO's match, other than C.O.D, but it's more rushed. It's not secluded; it's in the open- with a witness. It's almost like the killer is protecting her- he clearly shows sadistic tendencies with the victim, but then he licks _her_ clean before taking her somewhere, that's not a hospital, there aren't any records, I've checked- that doesn't match with the normal behavior of a sadistic serial killer towards a woman they don't know. He has to know her, and she has to mean something to him, at some level." Mike explained.

"Do we have the audio yet? That might help us figure this out." Jason said, pacing. Just then, a third male, tall, black, 40's, came in, holding a CD. Inserting it, they rewinded the tape, and played the CD at the same time.

The victim comes around the back, like he's waiting for something, and then hides in the shadows. A few minutes later, the UnSub comes out, relaxed, and ignores the victim. A few minutes after that, a girl comes out the back, locks up and starts skipping her way out the alley. The victim grabs her, a knife pinned to her throat.

"_Who's the one who doesn't know what to do now, huh? I thought you'd at least fight back, but it was all just for sho-Ah!"_ He screams as he gets tackled, the knife cutting her throat as she gets knocked away. The UnSub then kills the victim, while the girl lies in a corner. She falls over, probably unconscious. Mike stops the tape when their UnSub starts ignoring the victim's pleads for mercy, explaining about he'd marked her, and made her bled. The part about mounting her on the bar was a little disturbing. However, the 'fuck off' part explained the victim's motive for pulling a blade.

They still turned their heads when the UnSub disemboweled the victim with his hands, before turning to the girl. She struggled to get up, not fighting when he pulls her up, but stumbles into him.

"_It's freezing!"_ She whined. All three men stopped in shock- she'd regained consciousness about halfway through the murder, and saw it- she'd turned to face it. And she was more concerned about it being cold than the fact that she'd just watched him kill somebody? The UnSub picks her up, cleaning her wound and licking up the blood, which was disturbing in itself. She seemed slightly uncomfortable at first, but eventually relaxed.

"Well, there's some new information. Looks like you guessed right, Mike" Jason said.

"So, they obviously haven't known each other that long- she isn't comfortable with him picking her up at first, but settles down eventually. But they _do_ know each other, because the UnSub preaches about the victim's stupidity of not knowing what it meant when the UnSub made the girl bleed, inside the bar. Are they in the same gang? Or some kinda club where cutting a girl is a sign of ownership?" Some kind of cult that deals with stuff en house? Was the bar the meeting place? They would probably have to check the place out.

As for the murders of the CEO's… well, that'd have to come later- right now, they had more of a lead on this case then they did the poisonings.

+Victor's POV+

He finished gathering the information he needed, Devlyn sending the detailed files to his own computer, and then went to see if he could coax Larella out of the bathroom. She'd calmed down, no longer crying, but she'd still locked herself in. He leaned against the door.

"Larella." His voice was not soft, or pleading. It was curt, demanding she obey him.

"Go away!" She defiantly replied.

"Larella, tell me." Again, no understanding.

"Devlyn already told y'u- Ah heard him."

"He was only reading files, guesswork, and B.S. thanks to your aunt- you're the only one who knows what really happened. Tell me."

She took a deep breath.

"Every five years Ah go into an estrus cycle. It's like being on E, but 10x worse. Normally a female relative that's not on her estrus'll stay with tha one who is, if she's not married, ta make sure she doesn't end up pregnant with some random guy's kid. Ah was on my summer break after ma sophomore year in college, and it was ma first cycle, since Ah'd come into ma mutation when I was 15. Ma boyfriend, Brandon, was weirding out 'cause Ah wouldn't have sex with him. Ah wasn't 'waiting for ma one true love', or anything ridiculous like that- Ah just didn't want to, so Ah wouldn't. And then Ah went into ma cycle. Ah practically jumped him then. Ma cycle was over 7 days later. Ah thought Ah'd just lucked out and not gotten pregnant, since if you hit the 7th day, your cycle ends, and you have to wait another 5 years. Since ma cycle was over, Ah had no use for him, and went back to not having sex with him. Ah found out a few weeks later that Ah had gotten pregnant, but didn't tell anyone. Ah went on my summer break, being careful not to injure maself, incase it'd tip off ma family- tha healing factor gets kicked when you're pregnant, since it'd kill the baby- the estrus weakens the healing factor, and takes a little bit of time to get back into whack if ya don't conceive, or after you give birth if ya do get pregnant. It took me two months ta get up the nerve ta tell Brandon- Ah still hadn't told any of ma family. Ah went to his apartment, and even though ma healing factor got kicked, Ah could still smell and hear. Ah tried the door, it opened, and Ah found Brandon with another woman. Ah ran out, he tried ta follow me, yelling at me to wait, he could explain, and for Shevana to wait there- and Ah know it was her, because he used her name.

"Ah got in ma car and drove away, as fast as Ah could. Ah could barely see, Ah'd been crying so hard. A voice told me ta pull over, that'd Ah'd do something stupid and hurt me an' the baby- and then… the drunk driver hit me on tha driver side. Completely destroyed part of ma car, and Ah couldn't think through the pain in my side, other than Ah just wanted the baby ta be okay." She stopped for a second, probably struggling not to cry again.

"Ah woke up after the second surgery, and asked the doctor who'd been in the room if ma baby was okay. He told me that Ah'd lost it- either it had died in the crash, or ma body had aborted it because of the stress. Ah made him promise to not tell ma parents or any other of ma relatives that Ah'd been pregnant. Ah just didn't want to deal with any of the drama, or the condolences that didn't have any real meaning to them, other than just courtesy. Nobody would have given me dirty looks or anything… well, maybe Sidney, but she doesn't like me anyway… With the baby gone, ma healing factor came back, and the doctors couldn't operate anymore- they couldn't even cut me open. They'd managed to find ma I.D., alerting ma family where Ah was, what happened. Aunt Regina came with ma father and mother, convincing the doctors to let me heal maself, and write some crackpot excuse for why they were no longer operating on me, even when ma file said Ah'd need multiple corrective surgeries. They left me alone, other than daily x-rays to make sure everything healed correctly. Ah told ma family that Ah hadn't gotten pregnant from my estrus, and maybe it was just acting weird because it was my first one. Ma father, brothers, and mother believed it, but Ah think my aunt knew Ah was lying, even though she never called me on it.

"So, Ah was released, and went back. It was the beginning of school, and the day after Ah was released, Brandon tried to beg me ta forgive 'im. But Ah couldn't- Ah blamed him, and still do, for makin' me loose the baby, all 'cause he couldn't control himself. Ah was so horrible to him. Ah'd never been so nasty to someone in ma life- Ah told him Ah hated him, Ah hoped he died, and burned in hell. And if he really wanted to make it up to me, he'd kill himself… So he did. Ah don't regret it though. Not one day. He'd had the nerve to take away what Ah'd held most sacred, so Ah still think he deserved it. And Ah'm not changing ma mind any time soon."

"I ain't askin' you to. Now come out of the bathroom." He commanded.

For a second it almost looked like she was going to continue to refuse, but she unlocked the door, opening it. Her eyes where red from crying, and the sleeves from his shirt had unrolled. She whipped her eyes one more time, before leaving, walking straight to her laptop. "Is he done?" She asked, her voice slightly hoarse.

"Yeah. Why?" He questioned, watching as she logged out of her e-mail, and pulled up an airline company. "The fuck you bookin' a vacation for?"

"It'll be Thankgiving in a week- they'll be expecting me to show up."

"You don't sound like you want to go." He noted.

"I do." She replied in a subtle sing-song voice. He walked towards her, circling her a few steps, before stopping next to her, and grabbing her chin and making her look at him.

"You sure?"

She slapped his hand away, which he'd make her pay for later. "Yes I'm sure. I'm just upset right now, jeez."

He pulled the laptop away, rolling his eyes. "I'll take care of the reservations, you, eat before you go into shock."

Victor didn't have a medical license, but he'd guess getting a bunch of pictures from you're stalker, a death threat, and realizing all this was because the evil boyfriend killed your baby, could cause anyone to hyperventilate.

She grudgingly ate the food, while he made the airplane reservations.

"It's gonna be in a small, rich gated community about an hour outside of Atlanta, Georgia, at ma aunt's. And could we leave in about 4 days and then 2 days after?"

He looked up to acknowledge her, before entering in the information for the flight, and the dates for the hotel. He, honestly, couldn't stand the idea of being around his family that long, but whatever floated her boat. He was aware that not everybody's home life had sucked as badly as his.

Well, until he'd been 15, anyway. Then, oddly enough, after he became an orphan, everything looked about as up as it was going to for a pair of kids on their own in the Canadian wilderness. It'd been hell, and it hadn't been easy- but it had been a step up. All the shit he'd gone through then was why he was the way he was- and when you were his age, you just eventually didn't change your ways. And he was fine with that- he didn't give a damn. Never allow yourself to regret a decision- and if he wouldn't stick by it later, he didn't make it until there was one he would stick by.

He picked up the phone, and started dialing- until this all got cleared up, she wasn't working, and she could bitch all she wanted- obviously no one was going to notice whoever took the pictures, so he wasn't going to allow them close to her. And eventually, if he did allow Larella to keep working, the photographer, assuming it wasn't Shevana, (or even if it was) they'd get the gall eventually to follow the pair back to his place. And that shit absolutely couldn't happen.

-Marty's Bar-+General POV+

Mike and Davis, the black agent, made their way into Marty's bar, not entirely certain what they'd find. There were girls with drinks, guys who seemed to keep everything in order, or at least as much to be had. Darts, pool tables, drinking games. Just looked like your average run of the mill bar.

"There are some very fine ladies at this bar." Davis commented.

"Yeah, I guess." Mike responded. It was obvious that while Davis was a ladies man, Mike was the more silent, nerdy type; until the topic turned into something he was comfortable in his knowledge with, however.

Davis lead the way to the center piece of the bar- the liquor hole itself. There was a tall, gorgeous blonde, and a red haired girl who was trying her best to keep up. "Excuse me, Sweetheart, when you get a second." He requested the tender's attention. Naturally, when she finished serving that round, she came over.

"How can I help you?"

"Actually, we have a few questions for you." Davis said while pulling out his badge, still standing, while Mike pulled out a chair.

"Um, okay, but I've got customers, so you'll have to work with me- I can't let the newfish handle it all."

"That's alright, that's perfectly fine." Davis replied, pulling out the file with the photos.

"Um, ha-have you seen either of these people before?" Mike asked, gesturing to the pictures of the lady and the UnSub

She tapped the girl's photo; "That, is Larella Zurtus. She works here, and happens to be my friend. He" She tapped the UnSub's picture "is her bodyguard. It was something with a V, I don't really remember… Vince? Vincent? Vic… I think it was Victor. I'm not really sure."

"No last name?" Davis prodded. She shook her head.

"Not that I caught."

"Um, was there any type of… altercation, last night? Between Larella and one of the customers?" Mike asked.

"Not really. There was one guy, this real alpha male type, came in here with three or four friends, right? Early in, and Larella had gotten into a small argument with her bodyguard. I don't know what about. It was probably something petty. Just a little dominance battle. Anyway, Victor… cut her. It was really weird. Oh! They're little fight had just kinda been a joke- she'd been paying more attention to Tommy then him, and he'd said something about what did it take to get a drink around here. Nothing too bad. But yeah, anyway, he'd grabbed her wrist, and they were in some little silent war for dominance. One of the guys, Aaron, I think his name had been, had watched them for a little too long. And Victor's got these really long nails- more like claws, actually. So, he scratched her. I don't know if it was on purpose or an accident, since he'd been looking at Aaron with a kinda gloating look on his face. Anyway, after that, it was about as normal as things get in a bar. Around the end of the night, Aaron tried chatting her up, which was a kamikaze mission in the first place for him."

"Okay, hold it there- first, who is Tommy, and second, why was trying to talk to her a kamikaze mission?"

"Tommy, is the old man over there" she gestured towards a man in his late 50's "A drunk, but relatively harmless. He's grown on the establishment, so we give him preferential treatment. Anyway, any guy who frequents this place knows they don't have a shot at getting anything from Larella, as she's just done right now with men. Well, maybe not completely. I talked to her this afternoon, anyway, that's not important… wait, what the hell is this about? Did something happen to Larella?" Her body language became instantly hostile; demanding to know what was going on.

"We're investigating a murder. Any chance that this is the Aaron guy you where talking about?" Davis pulled out the photo of the victim while he was waiting outside for Larella.

"Yeah, that's him.. He's the one who got killed outside last night? You think she did killed him? She's a bitch, and will throw her claws in your face if you piss her off, but she wouldn't kill nobody. If anyone, it'd of been the Victor guy- he was glaring at Aaron the whole time he talked to Larella. Of course, she wasn't enjoying the attention either, but still." The blond instantly defended her friend.

"We don't think she did- we know that her bodyguard did, however. We have the security video. He ambushed Larella out in the back alleyway with a knife, and apparently, Victor, if that's his name, did not take to it kindly. He brutally beat Aaron, before disemboweling him."

She shrugged, whipping the bar with a rag. "Not my problem. He shouldn't have pulled something with her, especially when Victor was probably all keyed up about the fact that someone wants her dead."

Both agents went slack jawed at her dismissal. Then regained their composure at her last words. Someone wanted her dead? This case was not going nearly as good as it had originally seemed. They had him on video tape for God's sakes! A silver platter! It was practically gift wrapped! And now he had a legitimate reason to get away for his crime- not to mention whoever was paying him, if it wasn't the girl, probably had a string of lawyers. Of all the rotten luck! And they'd probably be stonewalled until they had to give up and take on another case.

Davis seemed a bit stunned. "Um, do you know where Larella lives? And why you think someone is out to kill her?"

"I do, but don't bother looking- wherever Victor is keeping her, it's not her apartment. I learned that the hard way, and nearly had a heart attack when I thought some creeper had kidnapped my friend. He also takes her too and from work. And for someone trying to kill her, she's not the only one at risk. Apparently I am too. They're trying to figure it out. They don't know who. Don't know why. As for how, you know that man they found in the werehouse?" They both nodded

"Colby Rodgers."

"Guy tried to kill Larella. Victor stopped it. Simple." She shrugged again, stepping away to serve some beers, before coming back to the pair of men.

"So… basically, we've got nothing." Davis concluded, sounding deflated. Mike nodded. "Well, that was a complete bust. We're not done yet though- We've hit colder dead ends then this. We'll get him." Davis vowed.

**The moth is dead, by the way. For those of you wondering what happened to it. I didn't even get to kill it. I was glaring at it as it flew around the other half of the room, and it just fell, and died. And I don't care if they don't bite… their little hairy bodies and the mottled wings… eeeeewwww…. They're to a butterfly like a muffin to a cupcake. (Wait a second… I like muffins…) and now anytime something brushes up against me, the nasty thing is crawling up my leg or something, and it's awful… +shiver+ Even in death, the damn thing wins.**

**Oh, and for those of you not versed in the way of drugs- E is ecstasy, which is called the 'love drug' for a reason- your sense of touch is amplified, so just a brush on the arm is near orgasmic. Having never been on it, I don't know if it fucks with your other senses. **

**More random facts- there are many a similarities to Avatar (the blue people, not the bender), and Ferngully. Just thought I'd mention that.**


	8. Clicky pens and Y buttons

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines (unless other wise stated that a plotline was inspired by something else)Part of this plotline is based off a show called Criminal Minds. I also don't own X-box or Soul Caliber IV**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission **_**is**_** illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**1****st****: Microsoft is a **_**bitch**_**. I was SO FUCKING CLOSE to finishing this god damn thing, and then I went to open the file to finish the sex scene so I could wrap this damn thing up and post it, and then I'm looking at this fucking WALL of odd marks and such. I'm pissed, and this is a hell of a lot shorter then it was originally. It's a plot filler anyway. Oh well. (It was SO GOOD the first time too…. T.T (-Me crying, for you non chat speakers))**

**2****nd****: I was ranting about how happy I was that Jenrocks4ever took the time to review, giving me another in sight into people's opinions other then Gypsywitchbaby and GhostAuthor (though I do absolutely adore their reviews as well) and how if ya'll review, I eventually have enough free time to click links to my reviewers profile and read/review their stories and shizz… So yeah. Gracias, Jenrocks4ever, and jes, I'll check out your story and give it a certified NF-ass-kicking if it's called for. I'm just too pissed at my computer to convey my happiness.**

**3****rd****: I'm done with stupid plots not relevant to the main one, so we will soon be meeting stage 1 of 4 of the climax. Like, next chapter soon, if MICRSOFT ISN'T A BITCH AND DOESN'T DELETE MY FUCKING POST AGAIN! (Not apologizing for my use of the F-bomb, by now, you should all know I'm a psychotic bitch)**

**4****th****: I know there was a 4****th**** thing here… um. Crap.**

**5****th****: If you have time, I'd love review; I adore knowing what you guys think. Plus, Nagi is known to read the stories of her reviewers.**

**6****th****: Right, I was suppose to be reassuring you that although I'm cutting a bunch of crap that isn't relevant from my plotline, I'm not screwing you guys out of the ending. Still original ending I had planned, only you guys get to get to it faster. Good times…**

**7****th****: No, more right- I realized I screwed up with the time-line setting, so I'm fixing that now, as season is very important to the plot. If you don't like that, then too bad! (just kidding, but you are S.O.L., as it is VERY relevant to the plotline)**

**Please have mercy on my soul for the crap-feast I'm about to mentally rape you in. It's not as bad as it could be, but it's still never going to be what it was initially.**

**As always, please pardon any OC-ness or grammatical errors that occur- If I didn't catch it, it's because my Microsoft didn't. (Prick)**

+Larella POV+

Larella had eventually completely calmed down from her hysteria, though she was still distressed- thus, she'd savagely fought Victor for her right to take a shower alone, and go to bed in peace (Even if it had only been a verbal fight) when the time came. He'd stayed downstairs, which was perfectly fine with her; she didn't want to deal with him if he thought he now had an all-access pass just because they'd screwed once. (Well, technically twice, but still) She wasn't putting out tonight, and that was the god-damned end of it.

She hadn't even realized that she hadn't had her dream for the past 3 or 4 days or so. Missing it terribly (even though it's a masochistic want), she couldn't wait to slip off into her alternate dis-reality. Not a moment too soon, she fell asleep, alone, and low and behold, the same scene that was always there for the past 20 years was there. The first time she had the dream, she'd cried herself awake, it'd upset her so badly when it ended. She'd been in the fetal position, crying until she was fairly certain she was going to pass out. Cursing God and Brandon, (not the mention the broad Shevana) she'd been awake all night, unable to sleep until she'd passed out from deprivation at 6 p.m.

It was still the same dream, for 20 years. Time doesn't heal all wounds- it just makes you unaware of the pain. After 20 years, it still hurt like a gunshot to the cerebral cortex. Just got used to it. She never tired of it either.

A 2-person swing set, surrounded by cherry blossoms and trees. It was late spring, or early fall. It was never from Larella's point of view. She had the dream like she was a 3rd party, watching herself from behind. Pushing a 5 year old little girl with long thick black hair in one of the swings, the child giggling happily. "_Higher! Higher, Mommy!"_ The little girl demanded, Larella complying, pushing the child harder, causing her to go up farther.

Up, down, back and forth, the swing went, for hours at a time. Larella contentedly pushing the child. Well, as perfect as this dis-reality was, there was still one thing missing. One thing she'd never get. Larella never got to see the child's eyes. Oh, and she'd tried- in this dream, she was able to move around as she pleased. But if she went too off to the side, and got more then the backside of the child's profile, the dream ended. Or, if something outside of her dream caused her to wake up, the child would turn her head, only for Larella to wake up a split second before she got to see her eyes. Why it was so important, she wasn't sure. But it was, and it had bothered her ever since she'd started to notice. The little clearing started to darken, storm clouds rolling in, rumbling thunder following it.

"_Come on Sweetie, it looks like it's going to storm."_ Larella said to her child, wrapping her hands around the chains, slowing the swings momentum. The child protested, though submitted to her mother's demand, hopping off the swing set. Another roll of thunder drowns out her words, and she turns towards Larella.

Larella woke with a start, now aware that the rumbling thunder was Victor growling in his sleep, annoyed at some unknown enemy. _Damn you._ She though silently, only to be nearly scared witless when he snarled this time.

The tone and manner of the growl left no room for arguments- she didn't care if it was directed at her or not, if it was meant for some enemy. She didn't care. He was not exactly capable of making rational decisions at the moment, and his message was pretty clear. Scrambling before she could even think about it- her blink reflex kicking in- she practically threw herself off the bed to get away from him. Her timing couldn't have been better; almost as soon as the flash of pain-caused by her landing on her bad hip, and getting the leg tangled up in the sheets, Victor lashed out angrily at the spot she'd occupied seconds earlier, slashing the sheets, loosening the threads enough for her to free her leg.

Forcing herself to stay quiet- to avoid drawing his attention to her-, she skittered backwards, tripping over herself in her haste to get away from the feral. She had no way of knowing if he was awake or not yet, and had just had the impulse of violence. Or if he was acting out a nightmare, unaware of what he was doing. Either way, she didn't want to find out- No matter what the verdict, or the way the pendulum swang, she was very well aware of the damage he could deal her, as uninhibited as he was at moment. Curling up in a ball, she tried to make herself as small as possible. He could well kill her if he was so inclined in his current state. She looked down, seeing blood run down her arm- the moderately deep wound healed over now, the blood the only clue to it's ever existing. The scent of her fear and blood seemed to be what it took to snap him out of it, causing the feral to shake his head, and look around the room for something, settling on her, curled up and shivering from a combination of fright and cold. She stiffened when he approached her, unsure of how awake he was. Victor pulled her up, and she gave in easily, allowing him to sniff the blood on her shoulder, and then lick it clean.

There was no apology for almost killing her, which she didn't expect from him, but still. He'd calmed her down, and the pair had returned to bed, both dreaming dreamless dreams.

+Victor POV+

The next four days passed by in a blur, the only truly interesting thing (and that was only for lack of a better term) happening on the 2nd day. He'd entertained himself mostly by chasing her around the house, and mounting her on whatever solid structure happened to be available. If there was a solid structure to be available. Currently, the pair had been residing in his den, Victor on the couch, watching sports, with Larella laying next to him, in one of his shirts, her head on his lap, in a vain attempt to try and catch some sleep after their… activities. He made it difficult for her by playing with her little clit, enjoying the pleasure she provided. Spreading her legs wider, she rolled on her back, whimpering. His eyes strayed from the TV for a second, looking at the little female, her back arched, mewling in pleasure. Grinning, he increased the pressure, forcing a gasp from her, followed by a moan. Returning his focus on the game, he (for the most part) ignored her, until she wrapped her legs around his arm, and pulled, as if to make him stop. Looking back over to her, Larella's attention was completely fixated on the window facing the front of the house, and the driveway. What the hell? She let out a low growl, barring her teeth, and he cocked an eyebrow at her, questioning her sanity. It took him a second before he heard it- engines from SUVs, about 5 or 6 of them.

Enraged that someone had the audacity to invade his territory, Victor stormed to the window, ripping the curtains back, snapping and snarling. 5 black SUV's pulled up, parking in one line, blue and red lights flashing. Government vehicles. The hell were they doing here? A few cop cars pulled beside them. Two men seemed to be in charge of the little armada, one a tall, imposing black male, the other a middle aged man who looked like this was the millionth time he'd done this, and it was no big deal. Whatever this was, he didn't like the looks of it.

"Larella, in th' nightstand upstairs, there's a piece of paper in th' top drawer. Go get it." Victor instructed, not looking at her, his focus on the congregated group of FBI and police. He heard her get off the couch, and walk out of the room, heading down the hall. The men seemed to have themselves in order, and the black one went up to the door, pounding on it.

"_FBI! Open the door!"_

With an eye roll, Victor calmly walked out of the den, down the hallway, and to the door. Another pound on the door. Opening it, he had a bored expression. Feigning stupidity, he addressed the man. "Can I 'elp you? I think ya 'ave the wrong 'ouse, buddy. Now g't the hell off ma porch."

That phased the agent- obviously he'd expected to have to chase Victor through the woods, and the statement must of confused the hell out of him, since for a moment, he was silent. Shaking it off, the agent regained his composure. "Victor Creed, you're under arrest for the murders of Colby Rodgers and Aaron Wilson."

"I ain't under nothin' or goin' nowhere, and I 'ave th' papers to prove it." His tone was still bored.

"The… papers?" Clearly questioning Creed's sanity.

"The-the papers?" Creed mocked. "Yes, the papers. If the damn girl _would hurry her ass up._" He shot the last part at her as she walked down the stairs. She hurried down them, two at a time, and Victor subconsciously moved, not even aware that he had. The movement block the agent and his posse from seeing Larella, a 6'6, 325 lb. barrier of solid muscle, literally armed to the teeth. She gave him the document, folded in thirds, and he stepped back for a second, forcing her to the side, and out of sight. Unfolding the papers, he held them out for the agent to read. His eyes went about the size of saucers when he realized what he was looking at- Creed was holding immunity papers. Which meant that even though they had a rock-solid case against him, and any jury _out_ of its right mind would convict him in a heart beat- oh well. Tough shit. Couldn't even detain him for 72 hours on probable cause. And there was no expiration date, which meant he had it for as long as he lived.

"Like I said- I think ya got the wrong house. G't the hell off ma property before I change my mind and kill all of you." Maybe the fact that he'd just gotten laid was putting him in a merciful mood; maybe he didn't want to put Larella's healing factor against the firepower of the 35-strong mini army, and see _just_ how much damage –and bullet wounds- she could come back from. And undoubtedly she'd get her dumb ass caught in the cross fire. Either way. He slammed the door shut, keeping an ear on the group as they, stunned by how different this was ending, as opposed to how they'd expected.

Growling again irately, he stormed back to the den.

Another two days passed, and it was time to go to Atlanta; They boarded the plane, without incident, other than his failure to get the desired reaction from her when he'd fucked her in the bathroom. He'd been trying to get her to scream; Failure, for the most part (only the flight attendant and the first couple of rows knew anything had gone.) but he'd get her back later. _Good._

As nice as it was for her to have the nice little family unit, it had been absolutely suffocating; Too many new names and faces, and it took everything he had to not kill one of them (and from the sheer size, he would not have been shocked if he'd assassinated one of their number.). Damn.

Interesting fact: apparently either beginners luck was actually real, or Larella was a very good gamer. Her brother had an X-box, and challenged her to a game of something called 'Soul Caliber IV'. He'd been pissed when she'd kicked his ass.

"That is _bullshit! _I know every combination of the game, every move, I have every item, unlocked every level, and that bitch just sat there pressing y cause she liked the damn color!" He'd ranted like that until Larella had flung a clicky pen at his face. That had shut him up.

Other than that, there was no incident short of an almost standoff between the black haired female and her cousin, only prevented by the swift intervention by Matriarch Zurtus.

He could not escape to the privacy of his own damn territory fast enough. Dear god; he was too damn old for this shit. Too much damn drama. Gossip, backstabbing, and who'da baby-fadda?

+Shevanna POV+-Unknown location-

Damn it. She'd have to come up with something better than that if she was going to get rid of Larella. Larella was the god damn reason for all of this; if she could just _go away_, then Shavanna wouldn't have any problems; She and Daemon could be together, without any worries. But no. The damn broad had to complicate things. Just like she did with Brandon. And she'd be damned if history was going to repeat itself while she was on the job.

Huffing, she made a throaty, annoyed tone. And then she had an idea. Reaching for the phone, she dialed a number. It picked up on the first ring;

"_Xavier Institute."_ The male voice answered.

"Hello?" Her voice sniffled. "My daughter…" She grinned a Cheshire through her crocodile tears as she spun the wild tale for the old man, who was more than happy to help her.

+Victor POV+

A few days later, he was in the den, and Larella was…. Running around somewhere. He really had no idea what the hell she was doing. The past few days he'd been irritable, so she'd kept her distance from him. Although she had no idea what was 'wrong' with him, it was completely her fault; He'd made a mistake in getting involved with the clientele, one he did not intend on making twice. She'd probably end up dead anyway, by the Shevana broad, or most likely at his own hands. Either that, or she'd betray him. She was a fucking woman, and they all were conniving little bitches, each of them capable of heartlessly, shamelessly betraying someone to suit their own means. Maybe not today, tomorrow, next week or next year, but eventually. No point getting attached. Why the hell he'd made those silent promises to keep her regardless of the cost was beyond him; the damn result of fuckin' good sex screwing with his psychosis, and he wasn't used to the damn broad sticking around long after he'd gotten his rocks off. He'd preferred when they could give out and get out. Getting up, he first checked the living room; and, low and behold, there she was. She paid him no attention, completely absorbed in whatever show she was watching. The icon in the corner said 'Criminal Minds| Now'. She held a dangling toy in front of Nyroc's face, moving it enough to keep the cat entertained and batting at it. He would have ignored the show, but something caught his attention; he didn't know what it was. From the brief bit he'd seen, he got the jest of what is going on; The main characters, Reid and Hotch, were interviewing a serial killer. Their interview was during the change of shift of the guards at the prison, and were alone with the man. To prevent anything from happening, Reid started rambling, with different fading and cuts showing that he was making a large speech; "...it's the most primal part of the brain; it's why a child cries when it wants attention, becomes enraged when it wants a toy that has been taken away. Normally a healthy relationship with the mother curbs this behavior, but if she's not nurturing, then the baby …. I think when you say you that as soon as you decided to kill them, that these people never have a chance, you knew, deep down, that it was really _you_ who never stood a chance."

Something in that speech cut Victor down his core; with an enraged snarl, he stormed out of the house, (ignoring slamming the back door shut, and Larella's incredulous, confused look). Going into the woods, he went a few hundred yards in before he ripped into the nearest tree, obliterating the bark into tiny shards of splintered wood, taking out all his rage on the proud Oak. After a while, he started to calm down, but wasn't ready to back inside; if she had the audacity to ask him what was wrong, he'd have no choice but to kill her.

His rage, a protective instinct, and adrenaline flushed his system when he heard the sound of a jet engine.

**Ugh. Oh, and I randomly remembered that little tid-bit from a kickass show called Criminal Minds, which I'm pretty sure I've already mentioned on here. I dun own that –shot- CM and all characters belong to The Mark Gordon Company (or something along those lines), regardless of how much I'd love to lock Spencer and Derek in my closet! It just spoke to me, and demanded that Victor be in the room when it was written.**

**Vic's paranoia is the result of me thinking he's too fluffily sweet; my way of balancing him out. Hope you like**

**And why is it that, recently, whenever I listen to music while working on SDBN, the only songs the radio insists on playing are songs where the girl dies at the end? (Concrete Angel, The Dance, Don't take the Girl, Remembering Sunday, etc.) Nagi thinks she is being given subliminal messages.**

**Um, I've already requested this, but it can't hurt; If you have time, perhaps take 2 seconds for a review so I can know what you think?**


	9. Battlefield

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines.**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission**_**is**_**illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**1st: Someone is out to get me; I was almost finished with this, and my entire flash drive wiped itself out.**

**2nd: Thank you all for taking the time to read this! The email notifications when my story gets added to somebody's favorites/update list (Or the occasional review) makes my day.**

**3****rd****: I apologize for all the horrendous grammar error. No more late night typing, scout's honor. It should all be fixed now. Though the fight scene still sucks.**

+Victor POV+

Enraged, Victor debated which path to take; have Larella get the hell out of the house, and into the woods, or stay in the house. If the X-freaks were just here for him, then having her leave the house was a mistake. But if they were there _for_ Larella, then it wouldn't be a smart move to keep her inside, where they could catch her more easily.

But was he willing to risk them finding about her if they didn't know? Damn it all. He wasn't certain. If Jimmy was there, no about as soon as he saw the innocent looking female, he'd want to steal her away from Victor. Two things wrong with that; one, there wasn't a damn thing about that girl that was innocent, and two, the idea of Jimmy coming in and taking Victor's bitch didn't sit well with him at all. Conniving or not, she was his property until he decided otherwise. Hell. He'd keep her inside; if they were there for her, they could find her. And she'd get a crafty way to get out.

Storming inside, the back door slammed open, causing Larella to jump. Her head whipped back, the unasked question in her eyes. "Fuckin' stay inside, you understand me? " A mute nod. "And they come in here for you, you give them the run around and get into the woods. I'll find you, not the other way around." Another mute nod. Her fear and anticipation laced her scent, along with confusion. She had no idea what was going on, but he'd told her all she needed to know. Stalking back outside, he growled ferally, watching the Blackbird land. That damn door descended oh-so-slowly, and Victor grinned when he saw Jimmy charge out, puffed up like a stuffed rooster.

"Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in." Victor taunted. "Nice to see you again, Jimmy."

"Victor!" Jimmy bellowed.

The sound of claws coming out. Jimmy's arm pulling back, threatening to punch him with those metal claws. Some serious damage to the face. "What, no response?" He goaded. Victor's grin widened as he felt the slash of the metal claws, retaliating with his own. The sweet scent of Jimmy's blood filled the air, the feel of Jimmy's skin spitting open to make room for Victor's claws. Victor's jaw set when he felt the tips of his claws run across and bend next to the adamantium skull. The damage quickly healed- too insignificant a wound to even be of any consideration.

He growled possessively when Victor saw the weather witch, the red haired physic and the bastard with the damned visor thing started heading towards the house. Fuck. They _were_ there for her. Fuckin' Jimmy was a distraction so they could try and take his bitch. Hopefully Larella was smart enough to know how to evade them; she'd have the advantage of home field, but that would only get her so far before her luck ran out.

Fuck this.

+Larella POV+

Larella was well near ready to pass out, throw up, or some other third option. She had no idea what was going on; and like with any hierarchy, when the alpha was nervous, or agitated, everyone else on down started matching the mood of said alpha. Pacing like a mad woman, she looked out the kitchen window; and nearly had a heart attack. Nyroc jumped on the counter, mewling irritably; he was not happy his mistress was upset. That was not, however, what had given her the shock of a life time; it was the fact that two women, one black with white hair, and one white with red hair, and a man, with some weird type of visor around his eyes. Fear and adrenaline flooded her system in one movement. Snatching up her silver cheetah cat, she dashed out of the kitchen, through the back living room, and nearly slipped right on her ass when she turned a corner too quickly on the hardwood floor; barely recovering her balance before face planting, Larella hauled her ass up the steps, stumbling several times in her haste. Stopping at the top of the stairwell, she bent over, heaving, trying to replenish the oxygen that her body was deprived of. The door opened, and the sounds of six feet hitting the floor in a disordered rhythm. _Back door! Open!_ The house's voice chimed, confirming what Larella already knew.

"_Larella?"_ A tentative voice rang out from somewhere downstairs; Actually, it wasn't somewhere. If Larella actually put the effort into it, she could have located where exactly they were. But her brain wasn't functioning.

The only thing that she could think of was the voice screaming at her to run as far, far away from here.

"_We're not going to hurt you. We just want to help."_

_Bullshit! You're gonna try and kidnap me, then take me to the crazy bitch!_ Larella silently responded, dashing down a random hallway. The only sound that she could hear was the light thudding of her feet each time it hit the ground. Her heart pounded in her ears, and she could swear she could feel her pulse… pulsing throughout her body. Her breath came in short ragged goes. Gotta run away. Get away, run, run, run, they're gonna hurt you, they're gonna take you to the crazy bitch, get away, _run!_

Following the ever present message running on a marquee through her head, Larella subconsciously was headed somewhere, but she had no idea where it was. Her instincts guided her through her mental map; she wouldn't be able to tell you where she was going, but unless you distracted her, she'd get there perfectly. Cut around. The sound of footsteps quickly parading up the stairs, and following after her.

"_Larella! Please, slow down; we're not here to hurt you!"_ The woman wasn't telling a lie, (her scent would have given that away) but that didn't mean she wasn't telling the whole truth either._Yeah, they aren't gonna hurt you, but they'll take you to someone who can, and_wants_to. Badly. For the past 20 years, more or less. You_really_want to take a chance on a potential half-truth? Run you ass, girl!_

"_Jean, do something!"_The man said.

What Larella wanted to do was tell the woman where she and her little friends could go, but that would risk giving awa…

She stopped dead in her tracks, confused. Nyroc dropped from her grip, though thankfully didn't yowl. He could sense his mistress' fear and confusion, so why the hell did she stop so suddenly? Scratching at her leg, Larella didn't react to the claws. She couldn't think straight, what so ever. Something was telling her it was better to stay here… to wait… the three people would- _wait a minute_. Shaking herself out of it, another realization set in; Oh. Hell. They have a psychic with them. And it was no secrete that ferals, unless they had mental training, absolutely sucked at mental defense. Shit.

Leaving Nyroc, she bolted down the dead end hallyway, trying the first door; locked. Right, it was suppose to be. Next door. She tried it;

It opened. Dashing inside, she immediately went for the other door that leads to the locked room. The trio was well in pursuit. Looking around, she panicked; the door to the hallway was locked, the door to the other room with the unlocked hallway door was too big a risk of getting caught, plus she'd have to backtrack, which she did not have time for at all…

Looking to the other wall, _Bingo!_ Curtains. And where there were curtains, there was normally a window. Which normally had an outside. Ripping open the offending pieces of cloth, she threw the window open hard enough that the glass bounced in its pane, threatening to shiver to pieces. However, it held, and Larella cawled out onto the roof right when the door was blasted open by some red light. What the hell?

Never mind; now was not the time to be wondering what the hell was going on. Now was a 'I need to get my ass out of here' time. Skidding her way down the roof like a newborn colt trying to get its legs, Larella barely made it down without breaking or twisting something. The man and two women stopped at the window, all trying to see where she went.

Larella literally hit the ground running, nearly tripping over herself as she tried to regain her balance, and tore off into the woods. The man followed after her in a similar style; shit. Where _fuck_was Victor? Angry snarls, the scent of blood, and the sound of metal across flesh answered that question. Just fantastic. She was going to be kidnapped and slowly tortured to death (or something similar) while Victor played with the Terminator. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Running, Larella tried leading him around in circles; it didn't work. He stayed right on her tail. However, memory and another angle provided a potential solution. The fight between Victor and the other man sounded over, with Victor's angry call, and the roaring of his opponent. That and the fact that despite his ability to, for all his bulk, Victor didn't do a damn thing to conceal his rapid approach.

Running still, Larella saw her chance. An old burrow under a rotted out tree. It was just barely big enough for her to squeeze her hips through. Diving into it, she got a few minor scrapes and bruises, which healed quickly. Maneuvering herself so that she could see outside the den (for what limited view the hole offered), she watched as the Cyclops man ran past.

Score for Larella Zurtus!

Oh shit. He skidded on his heels (she could hear it), and then turned back around, Victor still thundering about in the background.

She nearly pissed herself from fright when the man's head popped out of nowhere, and a hand was put inside her personal bubble, attempting to pull her out. Oh _hell_ no he did not. Instincts demanded that she bite him; so, her teeth dug into his hand, the tastes of leather, flesh, and the blood (in that order) assaulted her nose and mouth. She shook her head like a carnivore ripping into a carcass, and that was more than enough for him to get the message. Victor closed in, and then the man was ripped out of view, and the sound of… laser beams?... along with Victor's pained, angry snarl could be heard, and then a pained cry from the man. Something knocked some of the wood off her tree trunk (too much for her tastes), and the bark went flying off somewhere far away. She stayed cramped in there until the growls, grunts, and muffled curses lessened, then died out with the sound of a thump. _"Scott!"_Fast approaching footsteps; three sets of them, actually. The third was more staggered, like it was difficult to maintain a steady pace. Victor snarled angrily, knocking enough of the rest of the tree down that Larella's cover was completely blown. He grabbed her by the neck like one would a kitten, throwing her over his shoulder and then taking off. There was fussing over the unconscious man with the visor (the red head seemed especially upset), and then, though the distance increased with each passing millisecond, they decided to back off, and then try again later. _Later?_ Oh shit. Not this again.

After a while, he stopped running. Dropping her unceremoniously to the ground, she landed right on her ass. He sat down, leaning against the nearby tree. For the first time since he left the house, she was able to see everything; he had some nasty wounds, which would take hours to heal. Long, jagged marks raked down and across and diagonally around his chest. But she didn't want to know what the other guy looked like; he couldn't even run straight, as she had been able to tell. Carefully crawling towards him, she pretty much ignored the warning growl. Inspecting his injuries for herself, she sniffed right underneath his jawbone, then tentatively licked away some of the blood that was smeared there, in an affectionate manner. Victor growled softly at her, tensing slightly, but otherwise not reacting. She supposed that was her warning to go ahead, but be careful. Mindful of his deeper wounds, she carefully cleaned (well, licked) the blood off his face, neck, and shoulders. Growling softly still, he grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, only to push her away.

"You heard them." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah, Kitten, I did. I'm thinkin'."

"About?"

"Where would be best to take you. It pisses me off the very fact that they knew how ta even fuckin' find this place; I'v' got so many hideouts under so many names and alias, even I can barely keep 'em straight."

+ Victor POV+

He was debating between the place up in Montana, or the one in Virginia. Probably the latter. Either way, he knew damn well not even a complete dumb ass would stay in the same place after this little episode.

Both were isolated. Both could work. She'd probably bitch less if they went to Virginia. Warmer, or whatever fuckin' reason she'd come up with. Growling out an order to follow, Victor got up, and started walking. She followed, of course. He barely remembered having her pack her shit, and loading up the truck, before they were gone and on the road.

He changed trucks three times, took round about routes, and anything else to otherwise distract anyone who thought about tailgating. And all that was within the first 6 hours.

When it was nearly night, he pulled into some motel parking lot; Kitten was passed out cold as stone, leaning against the window, her breath fogging up the glass. Growling in annoyance(mostly because he was heavily weighing wether or not sex or sleep was more important at the moment), he walked in, got a room, then just carried the frail in. She had no idea where they were heading, and unless he wanted to spend more time than necessary on those wounds, it was better to just pull in tonight, and go again tomorrow. Smarter, safer. The cat followed on his own, tail sticking straight up.

Unlocking the door, Victor opened it, just to lock it again as soon as it closed. The curtains were already drawn, and the lights were out, though Victor could see just fine in the weak light. The sounds of a whore earning her money could be heard from a few rooms down; an elderly couple sleeping. Some red neck jerking off to porn on the shitty cable reception next door. When he put the frail down on the bed, she woke up, sleepily blinking, and giving him a look that was giving him a hard on, even though he was _fairly_ certain she wasn't doing it on purpose.

"What?" She sleepily mumbled. "How'd we get here?"

"I drove."

"Smart ass." The words were more of a yawn.

He growled in response, climbing on top of her; nuzzling her neck, he nipped her collar bone before starting down, and working off her shirt.

That woke her up.

Immediately, she turned into a good little bitch, all whines and sweet submission. Her legs worked their way to his waist, loosely wrapping them. A small, pleading whine escaped her throat.

Getting impatient with her clothing, he simply ripped them off, despite her annoyed protests. Her shirt and bra were torn to pieces in seconds, the cold air biting at her nipples. Squirming underneath him, a shiver ran through her body as his tongue laved over her skin. Growling possessively, he could smell her arousal, urging him to rip off her pants too. She had other clothes, so any bitching held no ground. Rubbing one clawed finger against her soft flesh, his other hand held her hips down when she bucked. _Fuck_ she smelt wet. But when he looked at her, she just had that pleasured look on her face. Trying to hold onto her sanity.

"Uh-huh, sweetheart. Ya act like ya have everything together, but how much ya wanna bet that yer pussy's a mess? You ferget I can smell that?"

She just whined sweetly, barring her throat for him, squirming more. He lifted her by one of her legs, then spanked her with his other hand. "Behave, Kitten." He warned, a slick grin on his face. Ever so slowly, her scent creeped up on him, making the bulge in his pants get bigger and harder. Slowly making him just want to roll her over and fuck her senseless.

_Why not?_ A voice popped up in his head. Going with it, he forcefully rolled her to her knees, which she willingly obliged. He slowly pulled he pants down, enjoying watching her squirm as the cold air hit her wet little pussy. She wore on his self-control when she whimpered, raising her rear, pleading to be fucked mercilessly. Crawling over her, he unbuttoned his pants, taking and then teasing her with his erection. She bucked, lowered her head, and pleaded.

"Please…" Her voice was soft; just like those folds. "Victor…"

Growling, he lined himself up with her before he lost the little self control he had left; even with her healing factor, she was incredibly breakable. He preferred her not being broken. (he rationalized the thought with the now age-old 'if anything happens to her, I won't get paid' argument) She pressed against him, impatient. He sharply spanked her;

"Stay still." She obeyed, and he slid inside her easily; she was far too wet for her own good. He was thrusting against her before he was even fully inside of her, causing all sorts of whines and moans to escape Larella's throat. The overwhelming urge to get as deep inside her as fast as possible ran strong, and for the moment, he allowed his instincts to be in control, driving against her soft flesh. Larella squirmed underneath him, begging for more, harder, faster, oh, yes, please! Feeling merciful today, he gave her what she wanted, meeting her demands before she had the chance to vocalize them.

The bed shook, the cheap metal framing bouncing against the wall in time with Victor's powerful strokes. The red neck in the next room was giving the pair his undivided, attention, and Victor smirked; Knowing that he had what someone else wanted, and that they couldn't even fucking dream about having it… Well, it just stroked his ego all kinds of nice.

And Victor was not sharing. Conniving little bitch or not, the frail had a sweet pussy and she knew how to use it. His hands barely left her, constantly making small adjustments to get the best result out of her. Her mewling rose an octave, indicating that she was getting closer to her own end. Victor's leathal claws dug into, stabilizing his center of gravity and adding a potent mix of pain the pleasure.

His smirk widened when she was obviously doing everything she could to get herself off, but his tight grip on her hips held her in one place. He was going to make her work for it.

Snarling, he felt her contract around him; slowly she started tightening. At that point, he picked her up and righted himself, completely supporting her weight, while she bounced up and down off his cock, getting herself off. His pace increased, quickly thrusting in and out. He growled lowly when she came, encouraging his own finish. He bit down on her soft when he came, drawing blood. She was going to feel that shit in the morning, healing factor or no.

The kitten was completely exhausted, her hair tangled, sweat covering her body. Grudgingly, he removed himself from her, only to strip down and then pull the black haired female to him, before settling down to sleep, a Cheshire grin on his face.

**I still think the redneck is creepy.**

**I do hope you find this version more reader-friendly than the previous edition of the chapter…**


	10. Before the Dawn

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines. She also does not own Youtube.**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission **_**is**_** illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**1****st****: Sorry for the delay, but so much stuff has happened to me recently to keep me away from my fanfiction… Bad mojo. Thanks for all the reviews/alerts/etc. guys, they make my day!**

**2****nd****: Well, we're starting to get to the high point of the story, though we still have a little way to go. This chapter is a teensy –cough- bit short, but oh well. It seemed it would have flown better if I stopped where I did.**

**3****rd****: I apologize for all the errors in ch. 9… I fixed them… I need to re-write the first, like, 5 chapters…(or whichever ones I did before my 6 month hiatus) I'll do that later.**

**Happy readings, my little fishies.**

+Larella POV+

It was early morning when Larella woke up, a single ray of sunshine, slipping past the tacky patterned curtains of the motel room, shined right in her eyes. Blinking sleepily, she yawned, rolling to her other side, into Victor. Snuggling up against him; it was cold, and he was pretty much a massive space heater of solid muscle. The movement woke him slightly, eyes barely opening, before realizing that she was just shifting, before going back to sleep, turning his face away from her.

The second time she woke up, it was for a different reason entirely. Larella jumped, feeling something move across her neck, before her wrists were pinned down to the bed. Barring her small fangs, she hissed at Victor. A low chuckle vibrated through her, while he smirked, apparently amused by her reaction.

She lunged for him, intent on biting, however, he just leaned away from her, putting more pressure on her wrists, and she dropped back to the bed. Growling again, she was about to go for another attempt at his throat, when there was a loud knock at the door.

"_Checkout in 2 hours!"_ Victor growled in annoyance, and she could see the little gears working in his brain.

"Victor…" She warned gently, wrapping her legs around him, rubbing herself against him, to distract him from trying to kill the clerk. It worked. His attention refocused on her, and she smirked, biting at his jawbone. A low warning growl escaped his throat, before he pinned her down. Larella struggled a little bit, before settling down. Neither had bothered fixing their clothes from last night, the articles thrown across the room in various stages of condition. Her clothes… there was no hope for them… It looked like someone had shoved them through a blender… His little idea that he could just tear her clothes up whenever the hell he felt like it annoyed her.

He propped himself up, when… Nyroc decided to get in the middle of it. Literally. Apparently the silver spotted cat had had enough of the big male monopolizing his mistress' attention. He leaped on Larella's chest, settling there, the look on his face just _daring_ Victor to try something, yowling for Mommy's attention. From the expression on his face, Victor _would_ have done something,(like hurl the cat a against the wall, or squeeze his little triangular face) if Larella had not growled maternally, making her point very clear. Thankfully, Victor didn't seem to be in the mood to fight with _her_, and left her cat alone.

"You need to go 'n take a shower." Larella noted, twanging slightly as she petted her cat.

"And jus' why the fuck do you say that?" Victor shot back.

"Because if wer' gonna be locked 'n a car all day, I dun wanna have to smell yo stanky ass. And apparently we only have two hours to get out of here." Victor growled in irritation at her, getting up and walking to the bathroom. Making sure she was holding Nyroc still, Larella rolled on her side again when she heard the water going. Settling her cat onto the bed, she curled around him, going back to sleep for a brief moment.

When the water shut off, she grudgingly got up, not wanting to move. She was sore in certain parts of her lower back, hips, waist, and legs. However, she set that aside, gathering her shredded clothes and tossing them in the trash. Leave a little something for the maid.

Getting their stuff packed up, they left. Victor drove for a long time, almost all day. Larella had slept through most of the trip, which was probably a good thing; it agitated him when she kept squirming in the seat, switching positions over and over again.

The seasons passed, spring giving way to summer. As summer had started to slip by, Victor had changed locations again, which Larella was none too pleased with. She'd liked it in Virginia. It had been nice and pretty and warm and _green. Oh so green._ The grass, trees, plants. Green, green, green. Speckled with red and yellow and blue and other colors as flowers started popping up in parts of the property. She'd camp out somewhere in the back with a book, Nyroc following and sitting next to her, before something caught his attention, and he'd go off stalking whatever it was. It had been freaking hysterical when Nyroc had 'hunted' Victor. He'd been headed back to the house after going to do whatever it was that he did when he left her for a few hours at a time, when the silver cat had dashed off, springing after him at first, before dropping to the ground, only the very tip of his ears visible in the grass.

At this point, Larella was already snickering, because she knew what Nyroc was 'stalking'. But watching him slip forward, then freeze, then _slowly_ creep forward again, only to freeze when he saw a change in Victors pace. Larella was very certain Victor knew he was being followed, but he seemed to find the cat's antics amusing as well, on some level at least.

Once the cat thought he was close enough, he sprang up, leaping after Victor, wrapping his paws around his ankle, latching on.

Larella couldn't breathe at this point, clutching her sides and rolling in the grass.

And then they had to go to freaking _Maryland._ Or, Larella thought it was Maryland. Maybe not. It was snowing, though very lightly, and most of the time it had melted by noon, so they might have headed further north (into Canada?), than Maryland.

Either way, it was cold, it was wet, and there was snow, even if only for a very limited amount of time. Ugh. At least Victor and Nyroc seemed to be having fun at least. Victor would disappear into the back of the property, dragging back a deer, or whatever other game he could find, back towards evening, leaving Larella to her own devices. Not the brightest move of his part, but since the crappy television signal worked most of the time, she entertained herself with that, or fiddling around with random online games when her computer wasn't locking up. Maybe she should have her cousin look at it. Maybe it was riddled with viruses of some sort. (It was a possibility, since she just clicked and went with her little games) She'd then found a piano, which had made her day; Until her move to New York, she'd done piano since she'd been 8. So… 36 years? _Maso Menos._ Her freaking apartment didn't have the room, and she hadn't wanted to mess with the hassle of moving. Besides, it had to be like riding a bike, or something like that. Then again, it had been almost 4 years since she'd even touched one. The first day, she'd played the soprano line for any of the songs she could remember from her middle and high school choir . Then she'd felt old, having to pull songs out of her head that had been there for about 20 years or more, so she'd looked up some piano songs on Youtube, and tried playing them by ear. Not flawless (by any means), but you could tell they were the same song, at least (at the _very_ least…).

+Victor POV+

When his phone rang, he froze like a bomb would go off if he so much as blinked. Miles away from the _middle of nowhere_, let alone people, he hadn't expected a reception. Hence why he hadn't bothered putting down the fucking ringer. He growled in annoyance as he watched what _would_ have been his prey- a huge buck that would have made any self-respecting hunter wet himself- bounded off with his harem of does.

Growling again, he snapped the phone open, not looking. "What?" There was no way the person on the other end could not realize they'd pissed him off.

"_You don't get pissy with me, mister. We have a problem, and it's coming your way in a week."_ It was Daemon, self assured with a vague cocky tone to his voice, as always.

He could feel the rage building up inside, his mind jumping to conclusions; How the _hell_ had they managed to find them. Or rather, were about to find them?

"I'll take care of it." He answered immediately.

"_Clearly you're too incompetent to do the math; You 'taking care of it' is exactly what I'm trying to prevent."_

"What the hell is that suppose to mean."

"_You remember Larella's baby story, yes?"_

"Yeah."

"_She was how old?"_ He knew the answer, he was walking Victor through some damn maze for whatever reason.

"Think she said 20. Why tha fuck does it matter?"

"_Don't get ahead of me; that's my job. How often are her cycles?"_

"Every five years."

"_Who's hitting the big 4-0 in 9 days?"_

_Shit._ "Don't tell me she's about to go into heat."

"_Technically I _already_ told you that you have 7 days to take get her taken care of before it hits. Ignore the extra two days. It's not an exact science, and nature doesn't recognize the '365 days in a year' thing."_

"I'll lock her in a fuckin' room. Problem solved."

"_That's cute. Nice try. She goes into heat, and if you can smell it, you won't be able to stop yourself from doing everything in your power to get to her. That and the fact that she'll be hell bent on trying to get to anything that moves, is humanoid, and has a 'Y' chromosome. Trust me, I've seen first hand how it works."_

"So I fuck her. Big deal. Guess what I've been doing, and probably will do when I get back to the house?"

"_Again, that's cute, Creed. She's physically incapable of conceiving outside of her cycle, but when she hits it, she's as fertile as… well, a she-cat. I can guarantee she'll get pregnant, even if you do have a low sperm count"- _A snarl ripped from Victor's throat at the insult, though Daemon carried on without a pause-_"You can't touch her during or three days prior to her estrus cycle. And God help us all if she gives birth to your children, the last thing we need is more than one set of your genetics. And before the thought even crosses your mind, you won't have the _presence _of mind to keep using condoms."_

"Then what tha hell am I suppose ta do with her?"

"_Bring her here."_

"New York? The hell'd I do that for?"

"_Because you're road trip is making the Xmen look for you out of state, and if you bring her here, I can get someone to look after her."_

"I am more than fuckin' capable of handlin' this." He snarled.

"_Do _you_ know any female ferals who would baby sit her anywhere from seven to ten days and put up with her whining? Because I can guarantee Larella's going to do everything she can to get out of there, and find a male." _ Victor's silent pause. _"That's what I thought. Anyway, thankfully for _you, _Maryse and Larella are best friends. The only catch is you'll need enough beer for an army to keep Maryse contained." _You could practically hear the eye roll on the other end of the line.

"Fuck." He did not like this. He'd have to leave her for two fuckin' weeks. He rationalized the discomfort at the thought by telling himself it was because he knew he was suppose to be keeping her away from harm. Though if he was going to be honest with himself, he would know that it was because of something… _more_ than that.

Too bad he was so good at lying through his teeth; it was hard for even him to tell the difference.

+3 days later+

It was night. It was raining, thunder rumbling and lightning striking There was also a silent understanding between the two that he was leaving tomorrow. Well, that's what she thought, at least.

It was also dark, though that was more caused from all the upstairs lights being off, save for one.

Growling low, more of a rumbling sound than anything, he pulled her small frame to him, nuzzling her neck, before nipping the soft flesh, watching it redden from the light of a nearby lamp.

She whined softly in the back of her throat, pressing up against him, just wanting to be _near_ him. Tossing her head back to get her throat away from his teeth, she tucked her own head under his, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent, reassuring herself that he was committed to memory. Rubbing her face against his, she bit his jawbone, not letting go despite the warning growl. Somehow, Victor managed to get her to let go, before pushing her onto the bed, on her back. Working her out of her shirt, rather than tearing at it, he growled low in his throat when she arched her back, stretching. Her jeans were next, then her underwear.

The lightning flashed, illuminating her pale skin, though lightly tanned from the new summer sun. Victor spread her legs, working his way in between them. Lowering his head, she kissed him, her hand fisted at the collar of his shirt. He straightened up and leaned back slightly, allowing her to remove the garment, before pushing her back down. He smirked, unbuckling his belt and undoing his pants, watching as she squirmed impatiently.

"Behave, Kitten. Don't make me have to punish you." He warned, enjoying –however remote- the control he had over her. She shifted a bit more, before gathering her legs under herself, pushing her weight onto her knees, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. He growled, freeing his erection before slipping his hands underneath her thighs, picking her up while she braced herself from her arms on his broad shoulders. Larella dropped one of her hands down, guiding him inside of her, moaning at the sensations that ripped through her body. "Good girl." He praised, digging his claws into her skin. She made a keening noise, tightening her grip around his neck when lightning cracked, their black silhouette on the opposite wall for a split second before returning to the darkness, pierced only by the lamplight.

Adjusting his grip on her legs, he worked her arms loosing, allowing her upper half to fall to the bed. A cry escaped her mouth at the change in angle, arching her back and thrusting once against him while he slid in and out of her.

"Oh Victor…" she exhaled, gasping at each thrust. "Oh…oh…oh." He growled at her, low and throaty, pinning her wrists down.

His pace sped up, matched by Larella's moans, as he held her down, pretty much immobilizing her. He watched as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, while she tried to spread her legs as far as possible, arching up what little amount she could, barring her throat. He groan softly when she tightened around him, causing him to smirk; oh, she was close. Watching as her breasts bounced in time with his increasing thrusts, he released her arms, only to seize her hips, digging his claws into her.

"Oh please Victor!" Larella exclaimed, her body tightening up, like a bow's string. One of his hands slipped down her abdomen, he pressed the pad of his thumb against her swollen clit, rubbing against her.

The simple action pushed her over the edge, and she grabbed the bed sheets, her nails tearing at slightly, riding out her orgasm while Victor continued to thrust volatility into her until he reached his own end.

They rested for a bit, before going at it again.

They stayed like that until well into the early dawn, when Victor finally pulled himself away from his exhausted little female. She looked at him with blue hooded eyes, and from the expression on her face, she seemed very well pleased with herself, a cat that caught a rat.

"You're not leavin yet are you?" she asked, a slight pleading tone in her voice.

"Not yet, go to sleep." Technically not a lie; he wasn't leaving just yet. Still had a few loose ends to tie up. Though granted, that would only last about 5 minutes. She obeyed, taking the time to stretch first, before grabbing one of the furs and covering herself, slipping off to sleep. She probably expected to him, at least briefly, in the morning. It was only two weeks. Years were nothing to him. Weeks would fly by. And if he spent most of it up to his eyes in blood? Even better.

It was easier to leave her like this, when she wouldn't be able to plead for him to stay longer. Fixing his pants, he found his shirt, slipping it over his head, before grabbing his bag and walking out the door; it didn't concern him that even a human could tell he smelt like sex. Going down the stairs, he got a small start when he saw the tall blond sitting on the couch, a beer in hand. How the hell did she get in…?

"Well you ain't fuckin' wastin time, are you?"

She smirked, much like Larella just had. "What can I say, me and beer, we have a thing. Didn't sound like you were wasting time, either. One could tell you weren't debating what color to paint the walls. Now, I suggest you leave before you get it in your head that you can stay. You don't want to be here for this."

It was kind of pissing him off that every kept telling him what he did and didn't want to do when it came to Larella's heat cycle. Whatever. He left, closing the back door. The loose ends could be taken care of over the phone. When he pulled out of driveway, he headed east with the rising sun.

He wouldn't be far, in case they _did_ need him for some reason. Just far enough that he wouldn't be able to smell her. More urban location, where he could work several jobs.

Later, he'd find himself wishing he'd never left fucking house.


	11. Break Check

**Disclaimer: NagainaFier fails at owning all things Xmen, though she does own her OC's and plotlines.**

**Posting all or part of this story on another site without my EXPLICIT, CLEARLY WRITTEN permission**_**is**_**illegal. Not only will I send my band of Ice Weasels out to get you, but I will allow the admins of a site to do whatever they please with you. That and I'll have my brother hack your computer and unleash a Virus so devastating, your hardware will look like something between a melted cheese cake and Jell-O when said Virus has done its job.**

**Just kidding. But I will eat you.**

**All I have to say is that this chapter is ridiculously short for several reasons, and that's all you really need to know for_ now_.**

* * *

+Larella POV+

It was hot. Oh god. It felt like she was on fire. Burning, burning, burning. But not in the Nora Roberts-Diana Palmer-I'm-so-in-love-the-world-could-end-and-I-wouldn't-care kind of way. In the 'I'm on fucking fire, put it out!' kind of way. There was nothing sexy or erotic about it. It was a need, like breathing, but it felt like someone was holding her underwater, right below surface- so close, but so far away... Wait, fire and water in the same paragraph describing the same feeling? Doesn't matter. The hypocrisy worked in her favor this time around.

Maryse sat on the desk that lay next to the wall, her legs swinging beneath it, taking a swig of her beer. "You. Shower. You'll feel better." Larella hissed in irritation at her, fangs barred. Maryse took it for what it was worth, ignoring the action completely; she knew the black haired woman was only pissy because she was horny and there wasn't any Strange to take care of her. Or Familiar, for that matter. Fine. She stalked off into the large, cold bathroom. The cold was the only answer to the heat that plagued her, with the exception of sex. But she wasn't going to be having sex this cycle; Maryse wasn't leaving her alone for a second. Which was actually smart. After all, Larella _always _managed to escape somehow. Thankfully, most guys seemed to carry condoms, and most of the male population was human, so her scent didn't affect them. They just thought that she was a freaky little slut who disappeared after she got what she wanted. Which, once every five years, was pretty much how that went.

She stumbled to the shower, turning the water on just enough so that it was cold enough to give a penguin the chills. She stripped out of her clothes, and climbed into the stream of water. Promptly she just sat down, the water matting her long hair as it fell in front of her face. Under normal circumstances, if someone saw her like this, they would be convinced she'd lost her damn mind. But oh dear God, it felt so good. Not as good as sex seemed to during this phase in her life, but it was the next best thing. Larella had no idea how long she stayed under the water, but when she got out, she was shivering like... well, a wet cat. She dressed lightly, a tank top and some shorts, perfectly acceptable attire for the season. she'd turned the temperature down in the house so low that Maryse had threatened to commender it. Fine.

She paced around, a caged animal, Maryse following non stop. The blonde wasn't letting Larella out of her sight.

That was the first day, and each day, it only got worse. The heat, the pressure; it was almost too much for her to wan to deal with. God _damn _she needed a fuck. But no, Maryse watched her like a hawk. Making sure she wasn't anywhere near a door or window when she looked ready to bolt. Whatever. She hated this. Only two days more. But God, it was so hard to just stand here. Estrus cycles for her were like a cat's cycle; positively miserable, and the only cure was sex. Or a cold shower.

Night fell, the light slipping away, a shroud of darkness. Larella couldn't sleep, trying to pace her heat. If she could try and tire herself out, maybe she could get some sleep tonight. Maryse was asleep.

Forget it. She couldn't stand this. She was leaving. She slipped off downstairs, finding a keypad to the alarm system, tapping in the code to disable the beeping noise that started when the windows were opened. Slipping the glass pane up, she slid out, dashing off. She'd get laid, come back, truck through the rest of it, and then jump Victor the second he walked through that door.

+Maryse+

She woke up knowing something was wrong. Larella wasn't there, meaning she was gone. Fantastic.

Slamming the beer down on the ground, Maryse shot up, running downstairs. Crap. She had been trying to sleep on Larella's schedule, but she'd just gotten too tired to stay awake. Lovely. She really will take any lee way she can get. She had been 'alone' for about what, 3 hours? She saw the open window, following suit, grabbing her cell phone.

"Daemon?"

"_Yes?" _The line answered.

"She's-"

"_gone. I know. I think we both knew she was going to get loose. Find her. I don't know where Creed is."_

"Okay."

But where to start? Well, just follow the scent and try to cut her off before she got to the city.

+Creed POV+

He'd been lounging around in his room, debating his next move. Still had a couple days to go. And then he could bend her over whenever he wanted.

For now, he might just kill someone. He'd tried a prostitute who'd physically looked like her, but his brain wasn't buying it, and he couldn't get it up, for the first time in his life.

He was starting to hate it when his phone rang.

"What."

"_Stay in your room."_

It was obviously Daemon, but it was still annoying as shit that he thought he could just bark an order and hang up.

Hours later, he was completely oblivious to the sounds of screeching breaks, and the sight and scent of blood splattering across the pavement.

+Larella POV+

Something was driving her forward; she'd come across many men during the brief time in the city, but she's not interested in them like she had been; she had no idea what was pushing her forward, but it's grabbed the reins, and isn't letting go.

She didn't see the light turn red, the blaring of the horn, or the screeching breaks, until it was too late for her to do anything about it except cry out.

**I know. How lame. Oh well, I need the end result of the car crash to further the plot line.**


	12. Who am I?

**-Insert witty disclaimer about not owning the story and threats about theft in any form here-**

**I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! Oi! Life=massive fail bomb right now, drained muse, blah blah blah… BUT! I've got the update now, and I've got a hyperactive muse high like no other… Please forgive me? :D**

**Also, until the chapter switches to Larella's POV, there will be switching around between days. The night of the crash is 'present day'. So 3 days later is 3 days after the crash, etc., etc. I apologize if you get confused, however, I doubt it will be that big of an issue.**

**And I know I've been saying I'll rewrite this story since like, chapter 6, but I really will, since my writing style has drastically increased thanks to my RPs, and the past chapters… suck. But they shall be polished and made shiny and acceptable.**

**Though this chapter is short as well, simply because there wasn't much else to put without running on needlessly.**

**As for the indirect requests for sexy time which results in babies… You'll just have to wait –insert evil cackle here- All you need to know is I have Victor and Larella's story plotted out to the bitter end. I have outlines and everything.**

**Happy readings my fishies!**

* * *

- 3 days later-+Victor POV+

The male groaned, opening the door, ready to toss Maryse out on her ass, and tie Larella to the bed for the next two weeks to catch up for the week of cock blocking. Her scent was so far engrained in his head that he couldn't even get it up with another woman, no matter how close she matched physically, which both fascinated and infuriated the man. The infuriation, obviously, because Larella was fucking with his bodily functions; impotence was not something he was used to, and it was annoying as hell that he knew that little fact was going to get in the way of some jobs. It really wasn't that uncommon for his clients to want a female hit raped, to which he had obliged without a second thought, not giving a damn.

The fascination was a morbid one- as stated, he was not used to have any type of erectile dysfunction, so the fact that it was happening now: and oh so very acutely, he knew it wasn't coincidence, and it hadn't been a fluke- he'd tried a few times.

What the hell he found waiting for him was not a 5'3 female on her back with those pretty legs spread. Instead, he was greeted with the sight of Daemon and Maryse, sitting on the couch, staring at him like he'd grown a third leg. Well, a fourth, if you wanted to be a smart ass about it. Where the fuck was Larella? He sniffed the air subtly, and suddenly was seeing red when he realized her scent was nearly a week stale.

"_Where the fuck is she?"_ His possessive, threatening tone was irrational, he knew- she was a convenient fuck on the job. She wasn't anything more- or so he was telling himself. He rationalized the worry with that, if she was gone, he wasn't getting a) laid on a very, _very_ frequent basis, and b) paid. Obviously, with those two, paired with a liscence to kill, no one would dare question why he wanted her back. Shevana wasn't dead, as Daemon would have called and said his job was done.

How the fuck did they loose her?

"She's gone." Daemon replied; that usual, cocky tone was pissing Victor off faster than anything else.

"_Well no fuckin' shit. Why are you sitting here on your ass?" _His voice was a low growl, imagining all the ways he could kill this bastard. How the hell did Maryse lose her? All the broad had to do was _watch her_, and keep her away from windows.

"I have people looking for her, and besides, she normally wanders back. I'm not surprised at all she ran off. Her estrus cycles are horrendous. Something big happened; I just don't know what it is."

Wait, what? There was something this jackass didn't know? Fantastic, since it had to happen right when his seemingly infinite knowledge about everything would have been most appreciated.

Victor simply growled, walking out of the house- if he stayed in there for very long, he knew he would kill something.

-2 days after- +Maryse POV+

"Daemon, I have looked everywhere I can think of- I can not find her. Her scent is too covered up by the city to track her, and she is _never_ gone this long. I'm starting to get worried something happened." Sure, she had a kick ass healing factor, but it had its limits, and her cycle weakened it. She was no better than a human- what if something had happened? Kidnapped… rape was exceedingly unlikely, but couldn't knock it out… Or god forbid killed… Larella was not, or rather, had not, been in the right frame of mind to defend herself if by some chance she chose the one guy who had ill intentions.

Knowing Larella, she would somehow manage to achieve that impossible feat. But _why_ would she take so long to come back? Even if she didn't get pregnant, the seven days were over. Her cycle was over, and she'd likely spend the next two months lamenting about how she becomes a world-class whore once every five years.

The blond sighed, depressed and worried. 3 hours. That was all it had taken. 3 hours that she had believed would be relatively safe. Why had she even allowed herself to sit down? Maryse knew damn well that, when Larella was as irrational as she was on her heat cycle, so _why_ had she given the woman _any_ _potential_ for leeway?

God… she just hoped she could find her friend soon.

-Present day- +Unknown/General POV+

The young officer was gnashing at the bit, so to speak, only barely being held in check by his FTO- sure, the kid had a hell of a lot of potential, but he needed to be shot on the ass with a tranq every now and then. And considering this is his first hit and run, that probably explained what part of the issue was. When the novelty wore off, he'd calm down. Plus, as the girl was suppose to be unquestionably dead, as she had been hit with a particularly large truck… well, if the scent and sight of her death didn't sober the boy up, his FTO would have a few questions.

Road blocks were set up, officers directing detours around the scene. Patrol cars looking for the truck. One officer was consoling the person who had stumbled across the particularly bloody sight, which had understandable shaken the woman.

Parking the squad car, the FTO got out, his rookie in tow. The girl was face down, thank god, as no one knew exactly what kind of condition her face was in. Well, maybe she was to the side… Jesus that was a lot of hair… regardless, she was not face up. As they got closer, he noticed the buzz level go down in his rookie, which was good. Then again, this was the first time he'd –likely- see a death on scene, so undoubtedly it was a little unsettling for him. Though there wasn't a smell. He knocked that off to her probably having not been there very long. The pair got as close as they dare, the FTO's facial expression was a neutral one developed over years, while the rookie looked at the girl with natural curiosity- she couldn't have been that old, and, minus the fact that her face was probably looking like it had been to hell and back again, she'd probably been pretty to look at. Crying shame.

"So, how do we figure out who she is-was?" Apparently it was going to be silently assumed she was dead, from the lack of so much as a muscle twitch.

"See if she has any I.D. if not, likely we'll run different DNA or even dental records until something pops up so we can contact her family."

"Somehow I doubt she'll have I.D."

"Why?"

"Those shorts are the cotton ones that the girls roll the waist band- no pockets. Unless it's in her bra or something."

The FTO just nodded- he honestly hadn't even noticed that, though of course, the shorts were a minor detail. The kid was sharp as a knife though.

Another officer called the FTO away, leaving the rookie to his inquisitive, though still respectful, observation of the girl, who was likely dead. And it was due to this observation, that he noticed something. Was that…? His eyes widened. No… the spasms had to just be belated reactions or something… just incase, he watched her rib cage. It… well, he really couldn't tell… he got closer, crouching down.

He heard his FTO yell at him. _"Jensen! Don't mess with the body!"_

"I think we have a problem over here." He called back. Continuing to watch her rib cage, he was more and more certain.

"_And that would be…?"_ His FTO's tone wasn't mocking, per say, just wondering what could possibly 'be a problem'. Other than the obvious, with her being dead and all.

"I think she's still alive." Barely, but she definitely breathing.

"_Are you fucking kidding me?"_

"No sir- can hardly tell, but she's alive."

"_Well shit."_

A few minutes later, there was a swarm of paramedics ready to care flight her to the hospital. Her chances of survival were slim, but it was all she had. As she was being lifted, the rookie saw her face, and, well, her whole front. Understandably, it was little more than a mirage of black, blue and purple, with blood from various scrapes. His attention was snapped away when he felt a hand clasp his should. "Good job kid- she may have a better shot getting through hell unscathed, but at least you gave her one."

The next few days were spent with corrective surgeries, x rays, scans, and a plethora of blood tests, to figure out every single thing wrong with the unnamed girl. No I.D., she was simply another Jane Doe, until she woke up and told them her name. If she woke up. Despite the unlikely ness, she was getting stronger and stronger, and healing at an alarming rate, which was starting to raise the question- was their Jane Doe a mutant, and if so, what kind? While as a general rule the hospital didn't treat their mutant patients different unless they needed to, but if she reacted volatility, or had a psychotic break… it could be exceedingly dangerous for everyone involved. She had yet to wake up, and they had no idea what her mental state was, general personality. As the days slowly turned into weeks, it was apparent she was a mutant, though the specifics were still unknown. All they did know was that she had a healing factor, which was painfully obvious when the surgeon couldn't get to what had needed fixing, only to see in an Xray that it was healed.

-Two and a half weeks later- +Unknown/General POV+

While no one knew where this girl came from or what her story was, there was the worry about her reaction when she woke up. One of the doctors had grown a bit attached to the girl, seeing his daughter in her, and would frequently check in during his shifts.

Eventually, she woke up. It was very slow, taking about an hour, from the time when the nurses first noticed, to her finally opening her eyes and seeing normally.

+Larella POV+

She had no idea where she was… all she knew was she alone, and it was dark… there were… something…. Others? They'd come around. She could smell and hear them. Some came more frequently than others. Her brain started picking apart her surroundings piece by piece. Though she didn't know where she was, her brain knew she was safe. The pain had stopped a while ago. Her eyes were so heavy… wait, how did she know that? She didn't know… yet it seemed right for some reason. Maybe she wasn't suppose to open them… maybe it was suppose to stay dark. Though, some part of her brain told her not to leave it alone- keep trying to open them. It was as if something crusty was keeping them shut, and after a flurry of voices, a soft rag went against her face, getting the gunk out of her eyes.

Eventually, they finally slid open. Immediately, she was hit with the incredible contrast of bleach white against pitch black, making her shut her eyes again Ow! It almost hurt. However, that little instinct told her that she was suppose to keep trying anyway. While it almost actually did hurt to, after enough time passed, she could open her eyes, blink, and look around without much issue.

Immediately, one of the nurses was in her line of sight. _"Welcome back, sweetheart. Can you do us a favor and tell us your name?"_

Welcome back? Where did she go? What was a name? Where was she? How'd she get here? All these questions ran through her head, though none of them held any answers. Then a man came in- she knew him. Well, kinda. She knew his scent, and knew he was here a lot. Did he know her? Of course, she was unaware that the nurse was still awaiting an answer to her question. Like she knew them anyway…

"_Sweetheart, tell us your name."_ Larella's attention snapped back to the nurse. Name? What was that? Why did she want to know Larella's? Did she even have a name? Was she suppose to share it, or was it a trick? For whatever reason, the female couldn't seem to put this to words. Her mouth opened as if she was going to say something, but nothing came out. Just a couple throaty noises. She flushed- somehow, she knew she wasn't suppose to make those noises, and they sounded nothing like the ones the female used around her.

"_I don't think she remembers how to speak. Then again, the damage was fairly extensive- her brain either trashed or locked away all the info up there to focus on fixing her."_ The man she remembered said. Speak? Was that the noises he was making? Why couldn't she make them? Could she before? He sounded like she used to know how… why couldn't she 'speak' now? Though he kinda sounded far away… everything felt out of whack… slightly off. She tilted her head, and blinked at him.

"_Don't worry, we'll try to help you remember. Can you do what I do?"_ He then proceeded to do a bunch of stuff- touch a finger to his nose, move different body parts. She could manage that without any trouble.

"_Okay… motor skills are good… you've just forgotten near everything else."_ Nodding again, she blinked at him.

They did have to reteach her what food was, though that had been a lesson quickly learned. Gratefully, she remembered how to use a bathroom.

The days slipped by, and they started reteaching her how to talk. While this was great, she was starting to wonder a very important question.

_Who am I?_

* * *

**Again, thank you thank you thank you for forgiving me enough to read this… so… if you don't mind, review? Just a simple 'good job' does it for me, though in depth ones that kick my butt and show me what I could work on are loved on also. I feel **_**much**_** better now, so there SHOULD be an update in two weeks time… though with school starting up, God only knows.**


	13. Memories

**If you haven't realized by now that I don't own X-men, you probably shouldn't be reading this.**

**I have no excuses… Other than lack of internet. But whatever. I'M SORRY.**

**I hate my scheduale, and will update when I can, though it will mostly stick to every-other weekend.**

**Happy readings, my little fishies, and I apologize profusely for the wait. I've decided to shorten my chapters so I can more done- You're welcome, my fishlings**

**Warning, there is random violence which really holds no damn place in this piece other than me wanting to practice, Mmk?**

+Victor POV+

To say the man was pissed was the understatement of understatements. _How _was it even possible that she was still gone? Yeah, at first, in an odd way, it had been… amusing. That was really the only thing he could think of to describe the situation, and it didn't fit at all. He had expected her to come back smelling like some bastard had –tried to- get her off, then she'd beg for forgiveness about it, Victor would have likely tracked the fucker down, skinned him like a deer, reminded Larella just who the hell was in charge via throwing her against a wall and having his way with her, and life would have gone on.

But no.

She was still missing.

Each day, Victor felt his stress levels rise with each day, that little voice in his head telling him he had failed her- He should have risked the kid, because now he didn't know where his damn woman was.

Yes, he finally owned up to it. Didn't mean a damn thing though- since apparently he was the only one to tap that in 20 years (estrus cycles aside, because he did _not_ count that), Victor figured he had some claim to her. That was as far as it went though. She was just a good lay.

So he was telling himself.

Either way though, he had quiet a bit of pent up rage and no feasible way to release it. Since a way wouldn't form _for_ him, he was going to make one. And pity the poor bastard who got to be Victor's scratching post. There really was no reason he selected the man- it was luck, or unluck, as the case may be, of the draw. It had been too easy. Victor had actually planned it out, wanting the blood lust to last. Just find a very secluded location, get many chains, restraints, and whatever else he thought might possibly be necessary for killing the boy. Likely he wouldn't use much other than his nails and that salt shaker… maybe the pliers…

The next day, some human sap was tied up, currently upside down. Victor had designed the chains binding his wrists and ankles so he could easily slide the boy into whatever position he wanted. This kid might have possibly amounted to something great, but Victor had other plans in mind. Taking one of the human's smaller hands in his own, Victor spread the kid's fingers, before slicing right between the slightly webbed flesh of his fingers. Start of small- it wasn't too intense a pain, so the only response he got was a pained whimper, the sound of his chains shifting. Victor left his upper half alone, just waiting for the male to start sweating. Then those cuts would start bothering him a bit more. The next thing on the list was his feet- 4 vertical slashes, and a severed Achilles tendon for good measure. That got the screaming started. The clinking of the chains increased heavily as the boy struggled more, wanting to vainly attempt at escape. It was pathetic, but the boy's screams, completely unmuffled and nearing an octave that should be impossible for any self-respecting male to achieve, satisfied a part of Victor. No one had listened to him as a child- why should he listen to them? Alls fair, and all that.

Deciding to get to the good part, Victor began peeling back the skin, exposing the sinewy muscle beneath. Like a deer. Wait… weren't you suppose to gut a deer? Yes, yes you were. Leveling the boy out, one quick slash down his tender, white belly split him like a watermelon, his hot intestine sizzling as they hit the cold concrete. All of this, Victor did in utter silence. He paid no mind to the boy's pleas, screams, begging questions. None of it mattered.

A few months ago, he had wondered if Larella had been making him soft. This answered his question. As long as she wasn't in the room, no. No she did not. He still had his touch.

Then he busted out the salt. Once the boy had his calves completely skinned, the left over flesh stuffed in his mouth (which promptly caused the boy to vomit, piss, and shit nearly in a synchronized fashion that was abit disturbing.) Victor laid on the salt. Nice and light.

Vaguely, he got the idea that next time, he should use a spice.

The sound of the quickly rattling chains, the only testament to how strongly the male wanted to fight for his life, while satisfying to hear, did nothing. Then he applied more salt. Maybe it was suppose to help in the long run- cauterize the injuries, or something. He couldn't remember or so much as think clearly.

Hours. He spent hours. The idea had been to spend days, however, Victor's blood lust had gotten the best of him, and the boy lasted maybe 8 hours.

With a disgusted noise, Victor left the corpse to rot- like last time, someone would call it in when he started to stink.

+Larella POV+

It was so incredibly frustrating. The whole 'speaking' thing was a pain in the ass. It made her feel stupid- why couldn't her brain just remember it like everything else? The nurse's gave her a stack of things called 'picture books'. Lots of pretty colors, and the 'words' were short and large on the page. The nurses tried to teach her how to speak and read through the books. She could read, slowly, but speaking wasn't going so well for her.

And then here were the names… lots and lots of names… the nurse would sit at the edge of the bed, with large 'flash cards' with those words on them- Laella learned that they were in 'alphabetical order', as they all went in the same order. A…, ab…, ac…, ad…, etc., etc.

She'd say a name, Larella would shake her head when the name didn't mean anything.

Name, head shake, name, head shake, name, head shake.

Until they got to the 'e's', that is. There was nothing special about the name. Ella.

Was she Ella? It sounded like Ella. It sounded like her. It spoke to her. She had no words. Well, obviously she didn't have any words. But no way to even think about it. Both she and the others knew she was capable of thinking things through, just no way to express herself as of yet, as all she could do was answer a simple yes no question, and even that could get a little too complex for her.

The nurse made a happy noise, hugging Ella. Says something about cutting down all the names that start with or end with 'Ella'. Says it will help find her family- she had a vague concept of family, and she wanted to find hers. But what if she didn't have any? Is that even possible? What if she's all alone… that would be sad. She hoped not.

Time slips by, and none of the Ella names spoke to her. So everyone just assumed it was Ella. They tried running tests, dental records, and a bunch of other stuff, but none of it added up to anything. They couldn't find anything. That was so sad. Did it mean she didn't have any family?

The doctor comes in-said he called a friend of his. That they can help her- something about unlocking her mind. Hey, if it could help her remember who she was, then she would not have any problems.

A few days later, the man came, with three people as well- two males, one female.

Now, up until this point, Larella had been completely docile- no growling, no hissing, no spitting, no putting those pretty little claw-like nails in anyone's face. Testing had shown she was a 'feral' – basically she looked like a person and could act like an animal. Or something. She had had no concept on just what she could do until the man with the thing across his eyes walked in. Every alarm bell ran off in her head, sirens screaming 'danger'- with a frightened shriek, had it not been for the quick thinking of the red head and the man with the wicked weird hair, she might have very well ripped him a new one.

Any how, while she didn't know exactly how, she had a feeling the red head was the reason for the conflicting calm- the man with the hair makes soothing nonsense, and his scent is familiar, but off from what is in my head. When the visor guy is ushered out of the room, paired with the other two, she was quickly sedated, and the three of them seemed to have a conversation that was too much for her to keep up with.

"Larella?"

That sounded right. On reflex, her attention snapped to the wheel chair bound man.

"We can get you back to your family once you're better- would you like to come join us at the Institute?"

What was an institute? But, if they could find her family, she'd follow them anywhere.

**For those of you confused, remember that phone call our darling antagonist made to Charles? That comes back into play.**

**I do hope you find time in your schedule to review, though all those who add me or the story to some kind of list/alert, thank you oh so very much~**


	14. All the pretty little ponies

**I don't own Marvel, nor, as painful as it is for me to say it, the incredibly sexy Victor Creed. **

**I've gotten lazy as hell with the 'review reply' thing, which is something I'll get better at doing, my fishies.**

**Fair warning, most of this is just filler type stuff. Nothing productive until the last line.**

**To the anonymous reviewers, since I can't reply via PM system;**

**Bloodyhelllx; Really? I do love that series, but it's been a while. I wouldn't be surprised if I accidently jacked a character's name from another story, though I don't remember him specifically.**

**Corrine; No, I didn't. It was a sad day- it just flew around and then dropped out of the sky. I didn't get the satisfaction of killing it -.-'**

**KittyKath; Maybe you could explain exactly what was confusing to you so I can try to edit the chapter to prevent that from happening to anyone else? I tried to clarify it for the masses, but apologize for the confusion.**

**Special thanks to Carlypso, Purple 'N Blue Wings, and g-love 78 for reviewing repeatedly :D I love hearing from you guys.**

**And we're at the second part of the climax, offically~ (Jesus I've been taking my sweet time with this…)**

**This is mostly filer, **

**Happy readings my little fishies**

+Larella POV+

Larella was still incredibly frustrated with the whole 'word' nonsense- the redhead, Jean, had taken over the role of attempting to teach her, and it still really wasn't going well. Though Jean was encouraging, explaining how it was simply a matter of re-teaching her brain how to make the sounds, since Larella apparently had a good grip on the language itself. Just not the speaking part. It was horrible- she tried to copy the sounds that the psychic made, but it was just flat out wrong. Not even close. She was about two inches away from going 'to hell with this' and sticking to what she could do- purr, growl, snarl, snap, and hiss. Apparently she was like a cat, though Larella had never met one, from what she could remember, so she didn't exactly know for sure.

The red head also tried 'unlocking her memories'. Which to Larella, meant she would get mild headaches for a while with no satisfying results at the end of the dumpster-dive. The only thing she could seem to remember was that 'Logan's' scent was off key to something that she knew. At first, she had thought that he knew her- the scent had at first been instantly recognizable. And then on closer inspection she had discovered- nope! Not someone who knew her, but he smelt _a lot_ like them. Maybe he knew them? But… oh well… all she could really do was simply wait for them to find her family- something about the 'number' (whatever that was) being out of service, and it had been the only way to contact her mother. That news had certainly put a bit of a damper on Larella's mood, but she had been assured that they would find her mother again- likely, the woman had a feral gene too, and so they could find her _somewhere_. That was a comforting thought. She wondered if she had a large family, with siblings and a father and aunts and uncles and all that- however, that question was one that was too complex for her to convey at the moment, so all she could do was make do with what she had been given.

As time progressed, she was allowed to roam the mansion, fascinated by all it had to offer. It looked ancient, all nice and old, and very pretty, but then there was a bunch of modern stuff thrown in. Like the lab, for instance. Larella had spent quiet a bit of time there, as the blue man, 'Hank', drew blood to try and figure out whatever he could about Larella- after all, there had to be _something_ that they had missed, and modern science could find. Whatever secretes her brain and blood was hiding, they weren't telling for nothing.

On the plus side, she _had_ learned what an institute was- apparently it was a place where all these children came to learn stuff. However, she had sat in a few classes, and that had done nothing to help her seemingly fragile self-esteem; these kids were picking it up right out of the gate, and here she sat, unable to comprehend any of it. She wouldn't even know her own name, had not the Professor told her. She'd of just been 'Ella'. Which she wasn't. She wasn't Ella, she was Larella. Granted no one knew what it meant, but surely her mother had to have known, right? So many questions, so few answers. Though maybe that was because she couldn't really effectively communicate anything other than when something made her angry (by growling or hissing) or happy (that automatic purr).

With a depressed sigh, she sat in a whicker chair facing the setting sun, the breeze running around her, forced to bend since it couldn't pass through her. They said something about the seasons changing from 'summer' to 'fall'. It was pretty. Everything was muting in color, but it was all gold and red and brown. Drawing her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapped around her legs as she set her chin down, watching the sunlight fade.

That oh-so-close-but-not-quiet familiar scent floated into her nose, and Larella inhaled quickly, before looking up to see Logan. He ignored her, one of those cigar things in his hands. Wrinkling up her nose, she frowned slightly- the scent of those cigar things didn't appeal to her. The man only gives her an odd look, before taking a drag on his cigar. Larella turned her gaze back to the setting sun. Even if she hadn't been comfortable with the silence, it wasn't like there was anything she could do to actually break it.

"Ya know, you ain't the only one who'se had some mem'ry issues." She looked up at him curiously. His tone was even, simply stating a fact. "If it makes you feel better, at some point, something will come back to you- and then a bit more." He probably had no idea how much his words filled her with hope. "Of course, 's always the chance y'u'll remember something you wanted to ferget, but sometimes it can be worth it."

Had he lost his memory too? Larella had no idea of the stories of anyone in this building- just that they had been here longer than her.

"And in case yer wonderin', yeah, I'm speakin' from personal experience. At some point, something will click in your head. Then again, you got it far worse than I do; I could still talk, just couldn't remember my own name."

At first she was mildly offended, before pacified that she wasn't the only one in the 'I forgot my name' boat.

He went back to smoking his nasty stick, and Larella eventually went back inside.

A few days later, for the first time since she arrived at the Institute, Larella roamed the grounds, Jean tailing after her.

As she strayed, she found an odd sight- beyond a fence in wide pastures, there were these strangely beautiful things in them. The question ran across her mind, and Jean answered her; "They're called horses. We ride them up at the stable."

Larella was completely enchanted at the sight before her- they were all different colors. White, gold, a reddish-orange, black, grey, speckled, and some looked like somebody took a colored horse and tossed white paint over them.

At that moment the horses decided to run, sealing Larella's attention; her focus was primarily on the painted horse, as it ran, the delicate legs quickly propelling the body forward. Her head was starting to bother her…

Quickly closing her eyes, Larella then realized she was having a flashback; it was over as soon as it started, but she had been on top of one of the painted 'horses', with odd leather wrapped around it's back and belly. Turning her head, she stared at Jean, silently asking for confirmation on what just happened.

"You just remembered something."

**And for those of you wondering why I keep describing Logan's scent as 'off key', it's because her subconscious recognizes Victor scent, and Logan is his brother. So they'd have a same 'base' scent, if that makes any sense. So Logan smells almost but not quiet like Victor.**


	15. Liar

**NagainaFier owns nothing of Marvel, X-men, or sadly, Victor Creed. She only owns Larella and any characters that are not from the series, mmk? Anyone found posting any part, or the whole story on another site will be sent a box containing one (1) rabid squirrel with a neck fetish.**

**I lied. There will be re-edits and what not, but I'll still crank out a few chapters every now and then.**

**Uber Drama Llama- you asked, I delivered.**

**You're welcome, and happy readings my little fishies.**

+Victor POV+

A few months ago, he had wondered if Larella had been making him soft. This answered his question. As long as she wasn't in the room, no. No she did not. He still had his touch.

That thought had run through his mind mere days ago. No, she didn't mess with his 'touch' –that innate urge and desire for bloodlust that had driven him for _centuries_ was still very alive and well. Rather, if anything, her absence increased that desire to just watch something _bleed_ for him. Point being, her absence was causing a noticeable (to him a least) lapse in control. And Victor was not sure by any means what to do with that. His instincts were telling him to handle it the way he did any stressful situation. By killing something. However, since that seemed to be the main issue at hand, he was dangerously close to diving straight into a vicious cycle. Once he _found_ her, he wasn't sure what he'd do, either. She was quickly becoming an unnecessary complication, yet even while she was gone she was worming her way into his psychosis. While he had yet to figure out just what he was going to do about this, for now he'd simply focus on his task- finding Larella.

There were absolutely no papers on Larella Zurtus except for the ones that the damn aunt of hers wanted to be able to be found, making hunting her down a pain in the ass. There was no way to tell what was real and what was fabricated. After a while he'd stopped trying to track her using papers. It just wasn't working and he'd have better luck looking for her by combing the country east to west. As for Matriarch Zurtus and the rest of her clan- well, Victor didn't care what their opinion on this matter was. He wasn't answering his phone- had let it died and hadn't bothered to charge it for days now, to keep the thing from proving to be a distraction as he attempted to find her the plain old fashion way… on day two he'd realized that he'd need to think outside the box- it'd been basically months, in the simplest form of the term, and there was something else going on here, or she'd have wandered home by now.

He didn't think that the Shevana bitch had her- clearly the woman would have done something to gloat about it by this point, had she managed to get a hold. And actually, he was fairly certain that he was getting that stupid broad's issues straightened out and labeled, in his head.

Just because he talked slow didn't mean he was fuckin' stupid. And this was some kind of drawn out, passive-aggressive turned aggressive insane woman psycho babble bull shit. Something to do with the boy that had killed himself too. How exactly all this tied in together he wasn't sure, but he was close to being onto something.

In a nutshell, as far as finding the stupid female went, he had absolutely nothing. Not a damn thing. At all. This was something that was incredibly frustrating for him. Maybe he'd find some other poor sap and toy with him… The sounds of the mercilessly tortured always brought a smile to his face.

Truly, it was one of his only joys in life.

Snarling in agitation at the whirlwind of complications and plans and those goddamn sissy emotions, Victor abruptly stood up, trying to think out of the damn box. The longer she was gone, the slimmer his chances for finding her.

+Larella POV+

Blinking a few times, Larella tried to replay the 'memory' over and over in her head- it was just a quick little flash. Just a smaller version of her (from when she'd been a child?) on one of the painted colored horses.

"Larella… come with me…" Jean's voice had a slightly distracted note to it, as if she was deep in thought about something else.

The thought of declining hadn't even crossed her mind as the relatively good-natured female followed after the red head. She was lead to a large metal building, and her nose twitched at the sudden onslaught of scents and sounds.

"Maybe we can help trigger some more memories… if you were raised around horses, then that might help us figure out more about you." Of course Larella was unaware that Jean, along with everyone else at the Institute was more than aware of a sure fire way to get her back to her mother- however they'd all agreed that the best way to do this was to keep Victor in the dark as long as possible, and make sure he didn't find out that she was less than 2 hours away from her registered apartment.

Sneezing several times due to the dust, her attention was quickly caught, like a small child with a shiny object, at the sight of one of the students on top of one of the beautiful animals, seemingly (to her at least) expertly and effortlessly maneuvering the powerful creature through the pattern it was performing.

"Do you think that you want to try? We'll stick to basics for now bu-" The woman was cut off by Larella's enthusiastic nod, her thick mane of hair bouncing behind her from the effort. "Well, I guess that settles that then. Come on. I'll walk you through how to do it- maybe you'll remember something else."

Excited by this prospect, Larella followed after her, though the bounce slowly died as some part of her mind nagged at her that she shouldn't be so excitable around them- that she'd upset the horses. Not wanting to do that in the slightest, she obeyed the little voice-that-wasn't-really-a-voice in her head.

Nothing really had stood out to her as Larella was walked through the process of grooming and tacking up the gentle old mare, named Cherry, thanks to her bright red coloration. Well, for a horse at least. So Jean said. Larella really didn't know.

Yet again that little voice had nagged at her about something being off about the cinch strap, but Jean had assured her that it was fine, so for the moment she ignored the voice-that-wasn't-really-a-voice.

The lesson had been simple, showing Larella the cues for the horse- it had taken much coaxing on Jean's part to get Larella to take part in practicing the vocal cues, as she was starting to shy away from wanting to speak. However eventually the woman got her way, getting Larella to speak to the horse. It would be good practice, Jean said. The horse wouldn't care if she messed up. Nothing to worry over. That had pacified her a little bit, and encouraged her. They'd start with truly the simplest of basic language, and go from there. Use Larella's interest in horses as a carrot to get her to learn how to speak using the parts of the horse, the colors and breeds and everything else. While she hadn't said that explicitly, it was rather implied during the conversation, if that could even be considered a conversation.

After about an hour, much to hr reluctance, she was informed that she had to get off the wonderful creature. Really- Larella could do this all day. However, Jean insisted, it was the first time that she'd tried to do that since loosing her memories, and she had to keep it in moderation. She was already probably going to be sore. Besides, and why Jean would have used this to convince her to get off the horse in the first place was beyond Larella, they needed to get back to practicing her speech.

With much, much reluctance she complied.

Once the mare was stalled, Larella was led back to the classroom, much like a small child. But of course, she essentially was like one, having no concept of the world around her in any feasible manner. All she knew was what she'd been exposed to in the hospital and at the Institution.

This whole learning thing? There were some perks, since she loved that feeling when the metaphorical light bulb went off in her head as she finally grasped a concept. Other things, like this 'speech' bit, could screw off for all Larella cared. And really, she didn't care too much.

Horses aside, her main interest was, vanity or not, herself. Not really in a conceited way, but she had no true idea, no concept, of what she'd been, who'd she'd been. Nothing. It made her feel lost. There was something she was missing- something that she missed terribly, but remained unknown to her. Jean had said that exposing her to a wide variety of things and then perusing the ones that got a reaction from her. Like the horses. That had been a complete and total accident- but a good sign.

+Shevana's POV+

Her agitation was growing with each passing day- it shouldn't have been that hard to grab her, yet those jack asses in the leather hadn't been able to grab a simple person. Truly, there was just… oh, now she'd gotten herself so worked up over all this (having been thinking about her failure for quiet some time now)… every day that the stupid bitch was still alive was another day that Daemon was lost to her… it had been simple- kill Larella, and then they'd be able to live happily ever after. As for Steven? He wouldn't care. Not really. She knew she was just a shiny toy for him to flash around. He could find another. Just like daddy… left mommy and her all alone, left for dead, for some shiny new broad with platinum blond hair and swaying hips. Idiots, all of them… but Daemon… that was different entirely. But she was in the way. She'd kill him, just like she did Brandon. It had been a sure thing- she and Brandon. But then that whore walked in on them- during a very intimate moment, which she had no right to- and then went and got into that stupid accident.. Brandon wouldn't talk to her after that, and Shevana hadn't liked that at all. She could have turned him around, but that bitch made him kill himself…

She hadn't deserved him, and she'd known it. So rather than loose him, she'd basically killed him just so Shevana couldn't hold him. She couldn't let the same thing happen to Daemon.

Eying the medication bottle standing in front of her, she glared at the small white pills, having a yellow tint to them thanks to the pill bottle, Shevana was wrapped up in her own mind completely, cursing softly before jumping about a mile in the air when the phone rang. Right… Steven had remembered that the bills needed to be handled, so those were back on now…

"Hello?"

"Yes, Mrs. Shepard… About your daughter…"

Thankfully she'd had to the good sense to figure out that the man wasn't talking about her _real _daughter. He was talking about the bitch. Almost blew her own cover.

"Have you found her?" She tried her best to make her voice sound somewhat distressed and hopeful at the same time.

"Well, yes, but there is a slight issue."

"What could that possibly be?"

"She appears to have lost her memory- she can't even speak."

OH.

…

Wait a second…

For a second she was about to curse for a kink in the plans, but this could actually work in her favor.

"Oh… well… as a child, she did have a problem with her speech- we were able to fix it of course, with therapy." At this point she was simply rambling, anything to convince him to hand her back 'her daughter' –that she wouldn't even be aware of what was going on? Even better.

"Yes, we will continue to hold onto her until she regains more of her memories. Right now there are just small bits and pieces. She has yet to remember you."

Well good. That actually simplified things.

"Oh no no no… couldn't you give her back? Please. I've missed her quiet terribly."

"I'm hesitant to do that simply because she doesn't remember having an emotional attachment… it might be very upsetting for you, Mrs. Stevens."

"No no… really… wouldn't it be better for her? To be back home? I know we left on a rather bitter note, but I can finally work with her about that… and get her away from that horrible man who stole my baby from me."

"I can assure you he won't be an issue in the future."

"Good. But please. Can I have my baby back?"

There was a pause. Good…

"We'll see what can be done to reunite you and your daughter as quickly as possible."

"Oh, thank you so very much."

Hanging up the phone, she held a smile that could only be compared to something akin to a cat being left alone with the canary. Soon… oh, so very soon, that bitch would be in Shevana's grasp and out of th way… she was going to enjoy this.

**Oh shit. Well now… We'e getting somewhere?**


	16. September

**Disclaimer:X-Men**** is the sole property of Marvel, I own nothing, blah blah blah freaking blah.**

**Reposting and claiming this story as your own anywhere on the internet will result in the ass kicking of a lifetime, dig?**

**Ain't I just a ray of sunshine?**

**Guys, I apologize for my temporary loss of sanity. It won't be happening again. I put in my tampon (so to speak), threw on some Emilie Autumn (Amazing music), and got to crackin. That and I'm currently trapped in a car with nothing else to do for the next four hours.**

**Happy readings, my little fishies.**

+Larella+

It was raining again.

Larella sat, alone, in the lounging section of the library. Jeans and a simple sweater, because it was cold. But she was barefoot, as the woman wasn't fond of wearing shoes (the second she was no longer in the barn, they often found themselves abandoned), compromising with the weather by tucking her legs underneath her. While soft shivers ran through her body, she was debating going back to her room and blow drying her still-damp hair. Actually, she should probably change clothes too. While not soaked, the fabric was most certainly more than damp, leaving a dark puddle on the seat in the form of her body.

It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that she'd gotten caught at the start of the storm, having left the barn when she noticed the grey, rumbling clouds that loomed overhead oppressively. Unfortunately for her, she'd taken too long on the way back. The sky was was shattered into a million pieces as the bright lights seared across it, followed by the deafening boom.

_Larella?_ After jumping three feet in the air from the unexpected voice, paired with the fact that it was in her head, the feraless calmed down, though her lungs and heart weren't quite as quick to silence themselves.

_Yes?_ Fairly certain it was Jean (sometimes the voices would sound distorted), the fact that the redhead was using her telepathy rather than finding Larella personally piqued her interest; after all, normally she fetched the woman herself, should she be needed someplace.

_Where are you right now?_ Ah. It was difficult to get someone if their location was a mystery, she supposed.

_Library. _

_Don't move._

Well that was... odd... but okay.

Another blinding strike of lightning cracked, the entire room flashing white for a moment. Another chill ran down her spine. Yet again she contemplated drying off, but then decided against it, preferring to watch the dazzling sight of the grounds underneath the strobe-like illumination. The pitter patter of falling rain drops streaking down the window pains was surprising light despite the violent outbursts of light and sound; soft footsteps echoed outside the library, the many pairs of feet indicating that they belonged to any dozen of the children residing in the Institute. Catches bits and pieces of the conversations, apparently it was going to be a scary movie marathon lasting the entire night, as there was no school tomorrow, what with it being a Saturday and all. Goodness, those kids were going to make a proper _mess_.

Looking around for the first time since she'd originally found her way to the library, she noted another scent; the light fluttering of their heart beat indicating it was a child, since adults' tended to be slower. Curiosity getting the better of her, the short woman stood before padding her way over to the child.

She was young, about twelve or so, (or at least, the child appeared twelve) approximately the size of a stick, with two blond, chest length, thick, fly away coated braids, and even thicker glasses. In front of her sat a gigantic book that could easily possibly weighed more than she did. So caught up in the book, the child's expression was one of blissful rapture, turning a page with the up most care. Possibly because the book looked and smelled ancient, like the slightest careless gesture would cause it to disintegrate into pieces.

Coughing slightly, while Larella had intended the gesture to keep her from spooking, apparently that would have been impossible, from the way the small girl jolted upright, giving the woman a deer in headlights stare.

A long pause as Larella thought through what she wanted to say; almost too long, as she could visibly see the girl's attention on her wavering more towards that of her book. Just as she figured she had the words she wanted to say, in order, and had opened her mouth, she was interrupted.

"Larella! You're going to get sick in those wet clothes." Jumping about three feet in the air from shock, her heart lept up to the back of her throat for a split second, her head turned to face the 'threat' with a subtle warning hiss being masked by low, rolling thunder. For just a moment her instincts had gotten the better of her, and she'd barely contained the urge to defend both herself and the young child. What was she talking about, getting sick?

Feeling like a small child being scolded by her mother, any desire she'd had to test out her conversation skills instantly died a _horrendously_ violent death. The rest of her body sharply turning to face the red head, her own expression was wiped completely of anything other than a look of unquestionable innocence.

With a sigh, Jean was clearly sorely tempted to roll her eyes. "Come on. You need to get cleaned up. We have something important to tell you."

Head tilting, her curiosity peaking again, it still did nothing to resurrect any sort of desire to talk. But who was 'we'? Well, obviously she had a rough guesstimate of who it was in general, but she wanted to know the specifics; however, clearly what she wanted was going to be put on hold. Herded back to her room, Jean told her to take a warm shower, which Larella failed to see the logic in doing so;all it would so was just get her more wet than she already was. Completely oblivious to the fact that supposedly she'd catch a 'chill' (whatever the hell that was), the woman was half inclined to out and out refuse, settling for just drying off instead.

But, Larella submitted without voicing any complaints she might have, stripping the cold wet clothing that clung like a second skin to her before stepping under the warm spray. Her curiosity of whatever Jean and the others wanted to tell her kept Larella from lingering any longer than necessary, and she was out with two towels wrapped around her, digging for dry clothes in under ten minutes. Settling for another solid colored long sleeve shirt and a pair of jeans, she quickly did away with the tiny water droplets clinging to her shoulders and upper back. Her underwear and jeans were on first, but Larella waited to put on her shirt until she was sure her hair wasn't dripping, vigorously toweling the black tresses until she was certain. That done, her shirt was finally donned. The rain was still pattering away, harder now, the thunder and lightning still going at it like bickering siblings. Grabbing the towels and tossing them to the side, the woman wandered outside her room.

Naturally, Jean was standing near by. Not right next to the door, but close. Silently following after the physic, Larella shortly found herself in the professor's office. Apparently he was the only other part to that 'we', as there was no one else in the office with them. Promptly sitting in the chair across from the man, his eyes were much kinder than the imposing oak desk that was between them.

In the back of her mind, Larella thought she knew what the professor was going to tell her. But then, at the same time the thought was immediately dismissed, simply so she wouldn't get her hopes up only for them to be brutally crushed (_not _that she was under the impression that Professor Xavier would ever do such a thing on purpose.). By this point the rain seemed to have lightened considerably, and it had been a while since the foundations had shaken and the lights threatened to give. Though in the back ground there were still soft rumbles, and every now and then a quick, soft strike.

"I think I'll get straight to the point rather than keep you waiting; we've found your mother."

Eyes widening, his words were like Christmas in July (well, September) for the young woman.

The rain stopped.

Two days later, her departure was far quieter than her arrival. It wasn't turned into a big deal; Just the professor and Jean, though Logan had watched from a distance as she left.

+Victor+

What with _all_ of his attempts to track Larella down having failed miserably, the distraction of Jimmy's birthday coming up was too good to miss. Short of literally combing every fucking inch of the United States, his options were quickly running out on how to find her. That damn aunt had sabotaged every possible paper trail, including when she'd come up north. There was, he supposed, always the option of calling that little know it all bastard of hers, but Victor was pretty sure that would just make him want to kill the egotistical man.

That and it was a matte of pride; he'd messed up leaving her in the hands of her friend. He should of figured out another way around the little road bump that'd been her estrus cycle. So, consequences be damned, he was going to fix this on his own, and find her. However all the dead ends and no gos had been putting a bit of a damper on his urges to find the girl; where the hell had she gotten too anyway? Even _if_ she took a temporary leave of sanity during that time frame, her ass should have wandered back after a few days _maximum._ Or called him -he'd made sure she'd known his number (literally) forwards and backwards before he'd left, should shit go down, for all the good it did in the long run.

With the current _string_ of failures on his part, as stated previously, the distraction that only his little brother could provide was just too good to resist. Taking his time to head up towards the Institute that the runt had been calling home for the past while, the hunter left a fair amount of mutilated bodies in his wake. A warning, and also a way to vent some of his pent up frustration. There wasn't going to be any release, any escaping it, until he found that _stupid_ girl. He rationalized that, again, it was a matter of pride. Creed was not, nor was he inclined to start now, ever one to accept failure when he was working. Invested interest didn't even factor into the situation; she was just another piece of tail. Yet despite that, the agitation continued to increase, slowly flooding him. Brutal mutilation of whatever bastard he grasped a hold of only took the edge off, but the noose was still there around his neck.

As he was alone, Victor choose a motorcycle as his mode of transpiration. It wasn't as if he needed much more than the clothes on his back; he could always hunt if he needed food, there were rivers ponds and even lakes if he got thirsty, and he dared somebody to try and pick a fight. Surely Jimmy knew that Big Brother was coming to give his yearly present-_an ass whipping_- once more. It was too much fun to mock the shorter man in whatever malicious way that he saw fit at the time. A few comments about his women here, and an insinuation of wreaking havoc at the school there, were normally all it took to bring out the animal in the Wolverine. Those little beserker rages were all the gratification that Victor needed, general bloodshed excluded. Fact aside that those bones of his would make it a bitch to break his neck, the only reason Creed hadn't killed him before hand was that he wasn't willing to end it yet. These visits weren't something he was ready to give up for a while, and it was understood damn well that the cat only ended the game when he grew bored with the mouse. Jimmy had yet to fail at entertaining.

The roads found themselves more winding, the speed limit signs dropping from eighty to severty, seventy to sixty five. Not that Victor gave a damn about the speed limit; those signs were just another signal that he was well on his way, getting closer and closer, sure as the towns he zipped through lost the space between them. Half the time he didn't even stop during the storms.

Stopping in front of the gate, Creed didn't even bother trying to hide himself- where was the fun in that? Easily scaling the fence, the recent rains had washed away most of the scents. Though with the number of kids who lived here, Victor's nose was plenty occupied picking through the various ones, trying to find that one he knew so well.

Already Creed was immensely disappointed- he'd gotten halfway across the lawn, broad daylight, and no one had so much as glanced at him. Not that there was anyone outside to do the glancing, but shit, you'd think they'd have at least basic security. True to his nature, Victor swung open the door like he owned the damn place, almost wanting to quip with a 'Honey, I'm home'. Whatever was about to come out of his mouth was abruptly ended. Victor felt like someone just slapped the ever living mercy out of him.

Son.

of.

a.

bitch.

Her scent, already days old, filled his nose teasingly. She was here. She'd been here. For a long fucking time. _Of course she'd be right under my God damn nose._ He thought bitterly, eyes narrowing dangerously. More than likely the next thing to come in his grasp was going to get killed.

Apparently the front door opening finally got somebody's attention. Specifically, his little brothers.

"Victor!" That infamous summoning that he seemed to use every time they crossed paths fell on deaf ears, Creed's reply a low growl in comparison to the loud bellow..

"Jimmy. I'm only askin' once. _Where. Is. She._"


End file.
